


The First Breath

by nekojita



Series: Laughing Fox Coffee House [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Canon-Typical Violence, Coffee Shops, F/F, F/M, Foxes as Virtues, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mention of eating disorder, More Pairings to Come - Freeform, Mythology - Freeform, Mythology References, Neil as Death, Sandman-based, blatant thievery on andrew's part, inventive swearing, well some of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-09-14 01:03:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 180,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9149917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekojita/pseuds/nekojita
Summary: Death is presented with an interesting challenge - to live among the humans whom he finds so confusing for a short time. Normally he wouldn't consider such a thing, content to spend his days constantly wandering around while doing his job (and avoiding his father, Destruction), but this time, he's found one human in particular to be of interest so he decides to give it a try, to stay in one place for at least a few days. What can go wrong?Only a Fury and a Virtue (or three) are determined to 'help' him out, for reasons of their own, and nothing is ever simple when so many powers that be start plotting. Death may very well regret giving in to his curiosity, along with the humans around him.Basically, my take on the Sandman universe with TFC characters.





	1. Death Takes a Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> As stated, this is my take on Neil Gaiman's amazing Sandman comic (so worth the read) - I'm taking the premise of the Endless, of gods and certain 'concepts' being anthropomorphized into beings (such as Death, Destruction and so forth) and running with them (here they're called 'Named Ones' since I'm not going exactly with the same Endless as Neil Gaiman set them up). Neil/Nathaniel is Death, Nathan is Destruction... and, well, you'll see about the rest. :-) I think you can figure out the ones who show up in the first chapter.
> 
> I don't know, should I tag this as 'Sandman'? I'm a bit leery in case people show up expecting NG's version of Death and Dream....
> 
> Not all of the Foxes/TFC characters will be Named Ones, and maybe not all of them will even show up in the first part of the story (here I go again, DAMMIT).  
> *******

*******

Death didn’t understand where humans had gotten the whole ‘one day out of a year, Death will live as a human’ story, but then, he didn’t understand a lot when it came to humans. He didn’t understand the whole skeleton with a scythe thing, either, though his uncle took great delight in mocking him for his overlarge hooded t-shirts and sweatshirts, which he supposed was only fair after how much he’d mocked the… well, for how often he’d mocked Wrath for looking like a stereotypical gangster the last several decades. Wrath’s suits were better now, while Death always had favored something that he could pull over his head and hide his face while walking around, even if no one could see him unless he willed it.

He missed cloaks. Things just hadn’t been the same since the late nineteenth century. Though the one good thing about the twenty-first was that so far, he hadn’t seen his father. He’d like to keep it that way, even if Destruction was busy as always.

Back to humans. He didn’t understand them, having never been one. Some of the… whatever they were, anthropomorphized metaphysical personification… all right, that was way too many descriptive words linked together to say he was a jumble of issues and universal powers jammed into a body which felt real enough to him. Some of the whatever they were (‘Named Ones’ being the preferred moniker) had been born human before being ‘turned’ or cursed or whatever they wanted to consider becoming mostly immortal and too powerful, but some weren’t. Death didn’t really remember what he’d been ‘before’, certainly not ‘ _Death_ ’, just a non-mortal child of Destruction and Courage before his father and Deception had done _something_ to him. Before his mother had tried to save him and lost her ‘virtue’ for it, been effectively wiped from existence and replaced by a new Courage and he’d become the new Death.

Family gatherings were decidedly strained after that, especially when Temperance had turned into Wrath out of grief and anger. All of it had left Death more than leery of dealing with his own kind, outside of Wrath and one or two others, left him more isolated than any of his predecessors. But none of the Named Ones could say that he didn’t do his job, that he didn’t constantly wander the earth ensuring that humans shuffled off the mortal coil, as it were.

Which brought him back to the baffling story about him taking a day off once a year. How had it started? With his predecessors? If so, which one? Death didn’t know much about the ‘woman’ who had carried the name and power before him, other than she had chosen to pass it on for some reason. Which was another thing that he didn’t understand, wanting to give up his Name and being.

It wasn’t that bad, being Death. It kept him out of his father’s hands, away from Destruction and Deception, which was a good thing from the little he could remember from the time ‘before’. From the brief flashes of pain and panic which would sometimes seize him and send him halfway around the world, anywhere away from where he was at the moment. It wasn’t like he had to be there for each and every death, he mainly just had to _be_. He had to exist, and to ensure that things went the way that they were supposed to. That meant keep things on track, prevent any idiot necromancers or too-clever magic wielders from getting out of hand, things like that. Sometimes even smacking down other Named Ones when they forgot the rules they were supposed to follow.

It was probably a good thing he kept to himself, kept moving along; he wasn’t that popular, after all. Maybe that was why the previous Death had decided to pass on the name, but he was fine with it, was fine. One of the rare clear memories he had of his mother was of them running together (running from his father?), of them always being on the move. It seemed to be a life that was meant for him.

He didn’t understand why Wrath was so upset when he told his uncle that. Besides, it wasn’t like they could change anything, could change the past. Time was one of the Big Rules, was immutable (despite being another story the humans liked to get wrong), and while something like a Virtue could change, something like Death couldn’t – his choice was only to give up his name and embrace oblivion, after being a conduit to so much power.

With great power came a great _price_ , along with great responsibility. Funny how the humans often forgot that part.

Still, if Death couldn’t spend a day as a human, he could still spend time among them. When things weren’t too busy (no uppity magic wielders, no annoying necromancers and his father too busy with a new war or whatever to bother him), he would attempt to do just that, to figure out the beings he helped move on to the next realm of existence. He would tug his hood over his head and shove his hands into the pocket of his jeans as he walked amongst them, still puzzled after all these centuries. It wasn’t as if they changed that much over time, other than to grow taller than him. That last part was annoying.

He picked a street in some city at random, after making certain that he would blend in without too much effort. Being what he was, he could become whatever the mortals needed him to be, could become one of their mythological figures or look like he had been born in their region and era, but it felt good to not need to do such things all of the time. To be as close as his ‘birth’ body as he could with his power tamped down to an acceptable – for humans – level.

The day was a cool and overcast, with a bit of a breeze that tugged at the few curls which fell past the brim of his hood. He smiled at the feel of it on his face, at the thought of something so free and unencumbered being part of him for a moment before going on its way. For a couple of hours he walked around watching the humans go in and out of various shops, talk to each other and drive around, their actions an intricate puzzle of coming together and moving away that he’d seen an endless amount of times yet still didn’t understand.

Why did they smile at each other if they were strangers? Why did they raise their voices to each other if they were family or friends? Why were they always in such a rush? He’d followed some of them in the past, and it never seemed as if they were going anywhere important, that their haste had any good reasons. All of that energy wasted, for things that made no sense to him. _Humans_ made no sense to him. They often were such cruel creatures, throwing themselves at his father and his uncle then cursing _him_ when all he gave them was rest and a second chance.

He was almost finished with his study when he felt a tingle of power, when he caught a glimpse of someone he wouldn’t have expected to be in a seemingly quiet area like the one he’d chosen. While he hesitated, torn between allowing his power to take him elsewhere or staying there to find out why _she_ was there, Tisiphone noticed him.

“Hello, Death,” she said with a sharp-toothed smile that he’d always found so odd, considering how bright and warm it was for one of the Furies. Then again, _Tisiphone_ had always been a bit odd with the way she was willing to stray from her two sisters, to talk to him and others. For some reason, she disturbed him more than Alecto and Megaera, which didn’t make much sense when one considered his father and uncle. Well, when one considered his uncle.

“Hello, Tisiphone.” He decided that he’d stay and give in to his curiosity and approached the Fury; she was dressed almost normal that day, in torn jeans and a loose tank top that showed off the ragged ‘scars’ on her back which would become wings when she wanted to fly. The ends of her white hair, hacked off at shoulder-length, were a rusty brown color, meaning that she mustn’t have dipped them in blood lately. “Here for work?” Perhaps those ends would be a bright red soon enough.

“Hmm, in a manner of speaking,” she said while tilting her head to the side, her almond-shaped eyes narrowed as if she found something amusing but wasn’t willing to share it just yet. “Do you feel like some tea? My treat, of course.”

“Uhm… all right.” They didn’t need to drink, but it would be rude to turn down the offer. When she jumped down from her perch on the fence and waited next to him, Death swallowed a sigh and fell in step beside her, close but just out of her reach. He was technically more powerful than her, but only a fool would underestimate a Fury, and he had a feeling that went doubly so for Tisiphone.

She gave him another one of her strange smiles and then the directions on where to go, which was just down the block to a coffee house painted orange and white and had fox paws all over the windows. Death frowned at that before he looked up at Tisiphone, who of course was taller than him by a few inches even though he thought she was older by a few centuries. “This place?”

“I know, it doesn’t look like much, but they have the best Darjeeling that I’ve tasted outside of India in decades,” she promised him. Considering what they were, they couldn’t lie – well, other than Deception, the bastard – so he nodded once and held the door while she murmured what sounded like ‘thank you’; it wasn’t so much done out of politeness, but an unwillingness to have her at his back.

Despite that thought, his lips twisted at the mental image of Death and a Fury sitting down to a nice cup of tea, all prim and proper, and thought that Compassion might be on to something about him needing to talk to someone briefly every other month or so, to try to stay in one place for once and deal with something other than, well, _death_. He tried to think of the last time he’d had a drink with someone, and thought it might be his uncle in Rome, about sixteen years ago.

That wasn’t so long ago, was it?

He hurried into the coffee shop, aware of how an older human he passed shuddered and complained about the sudden cold; he may look like one of them and have tamped down his power as much as possible, but some of his aspect still ‘leaked’ through. Most people ignored him, their minds doing their best to deny his presence, others recoiled from him, and the few who weren’t put off by him in some manner sensed his power and wanted it for themselves. It was yet another reason why he didn’t understand humans and rarely had any direct contact with them.

Tisiphone was standing in line near the counter, humming a song he hadn’t heard in centuries about a woman who was waiting for her lover to return home from war. He thought that was, well, an odd choice for a Fury, but that was Tisiphone, he supposed. To his surprise, he joined in while they waited, which made her smile at him, her sharp teeth hidden behind her lips and her expression pleased.

While they waited in line, Death noticed that the man behind the counter was blond with dark circles beneath his hazel eyes, as if he hadn’t slept well the night before, and was even shorter than Death. His shoulders were broad and his biceps strained at the material of the black t-shirt he wore while he reached for cups and wrote on them with a black marker, his expression blank for each new customer – customers whom he made put their money or credit cards down on a small tray, rather than hand the payments to him. The server returned the change and cards in the same manner.

Hmm, did Phobia have her claws in that one?

Soon enough it was Death’s and Tisiphone’s turn, and Death figured that she would order for the both of them, her presence a bit stronger than his. Yet the server surprised him by eyeing him up and down in an obvious manner before fixing a smiling Tisiphone with a bored look while picking up an empty cup. “Darjeeling, large, right?”

“Of course,” Tisiphone answered.

“And what about you, Red? What do you want?”

“Me?” Death blinked in confusion, both at the nickname and being asked a question in such a direct manner. “Uhm, what?” he asked while he pushed back the hood of his shirt while he ran his hand through his hair – the auburn curls he’d unfortunately inherited from his father.

“Drink and name,” the server said, the words spoken slowly and with obvious derision even if his expression didn’t change. “What do you think this place is, a car dealership?”

“Uhm….” Death cast a frantic glance up at the menu board as he tried to remember what to order in coffee shops, having last been in one with Compassion about twenty years ago in San Francisco, while he grasped at the first name that came to him from one of the newly dead. “Neil,” he told the server. “Neil, and… uhm….” What the hell was a flat latte?

“Figures, with that hair. You’re getting a large Irish Breakfast, then,” the server decided for him.

“It’s together,” Tisiphone told the young man as she placed a paper bill down on the tray. “Keep the change.”

“Damn right,” the server muttered as he swiped the money, his gaze still intent on Death for some reason for a couple of seconds before he clicked his tongue. “Next.”

“Oh.” Death blinked again and realized that he needed to step aside so the next person could order, a person complaining about having a sudden case of the chills. He went over to the other end of the counter where Tisiphone was standing, and after a minute a young woman handed them their teas.

He was surprised again when Tisiphone led them to a table in the corner of the coffee shop rather than outside or to someplace else, but he supposed that all it took was a bit of concentration and no one would overhear them. “He saw me,” Death said as he stared at his cup of tea.

“I know, he’s very interesting, isn’t he?” That time, Tisiphone showed her jagged teeth when she smiled.

Death cocked his head to the side as he held the hot cup between his hands. “Are you here for him?”

“Hmm, for Andrew?” She sipped her Darjeeling despite the steam rising from the cup. “No, not now.”

Ah, the server’s name was Andrew, and that wasn’t a complete answer, was it? “So which is it? Have you already been here for him, or you will be here for him?” Death asked; he was probably one of the few who could expect an answer from a Fury.

A hint of red sparked in Tisiphone’s brown eyes. “I’ll tell you which it is, if you tell me why you want to know.”

He considered that while he removed the lid of his cup so he could breathe in the scent of the tea _Andrew_ had picked out for him. Irish Breakfast – had he ever tried it before? “He saw me and wasn’t afraid.” Death knew when people were afraid of him. “He also wasn’t afraid of you.” While humans didn’t have as strong a reaction to Furies as they did to him… only the most foolish or those lost to Dementia didn’t react without some sort of caution.

“No, isn’t it wonderful?” Tisiphone’s smile just then took on what Death could only call a wistful edge. “I’ve already been here for him, or more exactly, because of him,” she explained. “I suppose you could say that I noticed something special about him back then.”

Death thought about that as he took a cautious sip of the tea, which was pleasantly astringent. Hmm, not bad. “So you’re what, watching over him?” Could a Fury do that?

“Not exactly.” Tisiphone shrugged, which caused the right strap of her red tank top to slide down her narrow shoulder. “I just check in on him from time to time for my own amusement.” She propped her chin on her hand, her bronze claws glittering in the light of the coffee shop, and studied Death for a few seconds. “Why don’t you try it?”

“Try what? The tea?” He lifted his cup. “It’s not bad.”

“No, watching Andrew,” she said, her expression rather solemn for a creature of madness and vengeance. “He’s very interesting, I promise. You might learn a few things.”

Now she sounded like Compassion and Wrath and… well, that was it, really, they were the only ones Death talked to – other than her, right here and now. “But he’s human.”

“We’re here to serve humans, in the end,” Tisiphone argued. “He can help you understand them better.”

Death wondered if she was one of those who had been human, ‘before’. “There’s….” He bit into his bottom lip while he stared into the mug of dark tea. “There’s my father.” It wasn’t exactly a secret among the Named Ones, how he came into being.

She reached out with her left hand, claw-like nails glistening as if molten metal, but stopped when he flinched before he could be touched. “I’ll watch out for him and let you know if he comes anywhere near here.” Things were quiet while he sipped the tea. “It’s good to… to just _stop_ now and then, to remember why we do the things we do,” she told him.

He considered that advice, considered what Compassion had told him, what his uncle had said the last few times they’d been together. Considered a human who wasn’t afraid of him, and how little he’d learned about mortals over the centuries.

“All right, I’ll stay here for a little bit,” he decided. “As long as it doesn’t affect things, I’ll watch this Andrew and see if he can teach me anything that the rest of his kind couldn’t over the last several centuries.” Death would be stunned if it happened, but stranger things had come to pass.

For some reason, Tisiphone appeared happy with the news. “Oh! Oh yes, you’ll see,” she told him while she smiled, her eyes bright and cheeks flushed – he hoped that she wasn’t about to break out into a bloodlust or anything. “You won’t regret this, I promise.”

He certainly hoped not, but he was supposed he was overdue for doing something he’d regret, having been careful for the past century or two. At the most, he expected to be bored after a few days and back to roaming along aimlessly. After all, how interesting could one mortal be?

*******

Death walked out of the coffee shop with Tisiphone, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans and his thoughts pensive.

“So, we’ll meet here tomorrow,” Tisiphone told him with another of her strange, mysterious smiles.

“Why?” he asked, puzzled by the statement.

“Because you’ll need some help setting things up, won’t you?” Tisiphone stared at him with that surprisingly calm nature of hers, considering what she was, while he thought about what he’d just agreed to do. “When was the last time you’d lived among humans?”

“Uhm….” Well, there had been that week or two in Scotland in the 1700’s, which he really didn’t want to think about with the uprising and all. Really, things had been nice and quiet until his father – not going there, Death thought as he winced. “It’s been a little while,” he admitted.

“And do you know what to do these days?” she asked.

He frowned at the question. “We just show up and….” He tugged his right hand free and waved it about in the air. “Don’t we?” Or maybe not, judging from the pitying look she was giving him. “Aren’t there lots of free places?” People _died_ all of the time, he knew that very well. Didn’t that mean lots of vacancies?

“You better plan on being here for a while,” Tisiphone warned him in a rather cryptic manner. “Tomorrow, the same time as right now.”

“All right,” Death sighed, then thought about it a little more. “What time is it now?”

“Four o’clock,” the Fury told him, with a hint of a smile on her lips. “You’re going to get along well with Andrew,” she said before she vanished.

Why did that matter? Death stared at where the Fury had been moments before for a few seconds, before he sighed again and allowed the attraction of multiple deaths to tug him away from the coffee house. He materialized at the scene of a collapsed building in Indonesia and only stayed there for a few minutes to ensure that the souls were passing on as they should (and that his father wasn’t behind things) before he slid _between_.

Suspended between realities, he focused on one being in particular and allowed that thought to fly off, then floated in the darkness while he waited, at peace in the great space of nothingness. It didn’t take long before Compassion responded, but then Death wasn’t sure if time really had much of a hold in _between_. He felt a small spark of warmth settle in his chest at the pulse of affirmation and welcome that was Compassion’s ‘acceptance’, and focused on slipping from _between_ to his friend’s ‘home’.

The bit of pocket reality which Compassion had made into his own was messy, as usual, was strewn with jerseys and jeans and other pieces of modern clothes, along with a few tunics, cloaks and even a steel chest plate from a few centuries ago. Death had to toe aside a broadsword as he stepped out of _between_ , and barely got two steps into the main living area of Compassion’s home before he was engulfed into an uncomfortable (for him) hug.

“Morty! It’s about time you swung by! I haven’t seen you since Paris,” Compassion proclaimed, a huge grin on his face while he dangled Death in the air. It was a good thing that Death didn’t need to breathe, but still, he didn’t appreciate constriction as a general principal and the feeling of his ribs being squeezed together in particular.

“Let… go,” he wheezed while he manifested a hint of his power, which made some of the clutter in the room whirl about as if animated by a sudden wind.

“Oops, sorry!” Compassion laughed as he set Death down and patted him on the shoulders. “Too much?” There was a rueful smile on his face while he ran his right hand through his spiked black hair, which always seemed to defy gravity somehow.

It was always ‘too much’ with the Virtue, yet for some reason Death put up with him – perhaps because as soon as they’d crossed paths, Compassion had latched on to him for some reason, refusing to be put off by Death’s nature, by him being one of the more powerful Named Ones, and had insisted on helping him out. Death had been leery at first, considering the whole thing with Destruction and Deception… but by Compassion’s very nature he was loyal and trustworthy.

He was also impressive as hell with that broadsword – just because he was compassion incarnate didn’t mean he couldn’t fight. There was the term ‘mercy-killing’ for a reason, and he would never leave a friend’s back undefended. He just didn’t fight without a reason… and a friend in trouble was all the reason he needed.

“Just a little,” Death admitted as he looked around for something clean to sit on, tired of craning his neck to stare up at his friend since Compassion had a good foot on him in height. At least the battered leather couch was cleared off of clothes now after his display of power; clearly Courage hadn’t been over lately.

“You need to stop by more often,” Compassion chided him. “It feels like I haven’t seen you in years, lately. You’re constantly on the move and never at home.”

Because the small space that Death had carved out for himself didn’t feel like ‘home’ – just someplace he retreated to now and then when absolutely necessary, when he needed to get away from everything and everyone. Because he felt best when he was in motion, when he was sliding around the world and between realities, when he knew he was a mere thought away from stepping somewhere _else_ , when it was impossible for anyone to stop him or catch him because he simply wasn’t _there_ for them to ensnare.

There was a hint of a memory in his mind, of his body yet not his body, so much weaker and frail, so much less powerful, trapped in a spell circle and bleeding, all cut up and broken, with Des-

No, he wouldn’t think of such things, he told himself while he forced himself to remain in Compassion’s home. The past was gone, was unchangeable, and he would never be so weak again.

How the hell was he going to remain in one place for more than a couple of days? For more than a couple of _hours_? Was curiosity about one human worth it?

“Uhm, Morty? Is everything all right?” Compassion asked as he waved his hand in front of Death’s face, which startled Death from his thoughts and caused another burst of his power. Compassion yelped as he scooted back on the couch, an ashen tone to his usually light golden brown skin, the color fading even more from what had been his bright green sweatshirt and blue jeans.

“Su-sorry,” Death stuttered out as he wrapped his arms around his chest. “Just… I agreed to something,” he tried to explain.

“All right.” Compassion sat there as if waiting for more to follow. “All right, I think this calls for something to drink.” He got up and went into the ‘kitchen’, which really was just where he stored the beverages and snacks; in the centuries that Death had known his friend, he’d never seen him cook anything, other than that one attempt to roast a small deer outside of Barcelona in the 1600s that had _not_ gone well.

Death hadn’t wanted to eat anything for almost a decade after that debacle.

He debated leaving, but Compassion returned quickly with two dusty bottles of what turned out to be mead. _Mead_. Death sighed as he eyed the bottle and took a sip, then grimaced at the sweet taste. “So, what’s this you agreed to, hmm?” Compassion asked. “It can’t be an alliance, you avoid taking sides like the plague.” Then he chuckled. “Hey, you ever wonder why there isn’t a Plague?”

“No,” Death said as he set the bottle aside. “It’s not an alliance. I ran into Tisiphone earlier and-”

“Whoa, you’re hanging out with the Furies? So what, you finally interested in dating?”

Perhaps he should have gone to talk to Wrath instead.

“I’m not dating anyone,” Death gritted out between his teeth; why did everyone ask him that? He’d never shown an interest in anyone that way, was perfectly fine on his own. Right now, he was wondering why he even bothered with his one friend. “I just ran into Tisiphone and she invited me out to have tea.”

Compassion’s expression just then was rather dubious as he tugged on his faded sweatshirt, which caused the hem to fray. “Huh, okay. Because you know, Furies don’t usually invite people to have tea, I’m just saying. Unless it’s to dunk their entrails in the teapot and munch on their bones as snacks, but continue.”

Death refused to feel guilty over the clothes, especially when Compassion kept interrupting him. “Well, it was tea, just tea. No entrails or bone crunching.” At least, not while he’d been there. “We were talking and… and I may have agreed to live in the city where we were at for a few days or whatever,” he admitted in a rush.

“Okay.” Compassion took a sip of mead and then choked on the beverage when it seemed that he finally grasped what Death had just said. “Wait, what?” He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand while he stared at Death, his brown eyes wide. “You’re going to live there? Wherever it is? As a human?”

“I’ll live among them,” Death clarified as he inched farther away from his friend. “As human as possible.” He couldn’t be _human_ , that was impossible. But he’d try to follow as many of their ‘rules’ as he could while he lived as one of them.

“But that’s-” Compassion paused to finish off his bottle of mead, then reached for Death’s abandoned one. “You’re going to suck at it, you know?”

“ _Thank you_.”

“No, seriously, I’m trying to help you here,” Compassion said as he pointed his left index finger at Death. “You’ve worn the same outfit for the last three years. _Three years_.” Death glanced down at his dark grey hooded long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans and frowned. “When was the last time you ate anything?” When Death blinked at that, Compassion groaned. “Do you pay attention to their technology at all? Their current topics?”

“Why, it just changes all the time,” Death argued. “Give it another decade or two and something new comes along.”

“Who’s Mark Zuckerberg?” Compassion demanded, his thick brows furrowed as he stared at Death.

Hmm, there were quite a few dead people with that name, but Death suspected that his friend was asking about someone alive. “The president of North America?” he guessed.

Compassion stared at him in blatant disbelief, then took a long swig from the other bottle of mead. “Do you even know what Facebook is? An iPhone? Instagram?” When all Death did was gaze back in confusion, the Virtue groaned. “Maybe you can pretend you’re mute or something.”

“It can’t be that hard, can it?” Death tugged nervously at the left cuff of his shirt while his friend groaned. “I can find that stuff out.” The knowledge of the dead was available to him, after all. It was just… he often got more than he bargained for, when he opened himself up to it, and he already had more than enough knowledge than he ever wanted. So what if he hadn’t kept up on the ‘current’ stuff for the last century or so? It was a metaphorical drop in the bucket to what he did know.

Things were quiet while Compassion finished off the mead, then he sighed as he tossed the empty bottle aside. “All right, in all seriousness now. Why are you doing this? Wrath and I have been after you to do something and pay attention to things for the past century or two, and then all of a sudden a Fury takes you to tea and you’re willing to play human?” The Virtue’s eyes narrowed as he studied Death. “I’ve heard Tisiphone’s a bit… strange, especially lately, but what did she say to convince you?”

For some reason, Death didn’t want to mention Andrew to his friend, to say the human was the real reason why he was willing to go back to that one city and stay for at least a couple of days. So instead, he merely shrugged. “Perhaps because she didn’t try to convince me?” Not really, she had just shown him the coffee house – had shown him Andrew – and made a suggestion, then offered to watch out for his father for him. That hadn’t been an argument to get him to stay, not really. “Maybe I realized that it was time I did something different.”

Compassion didn’t seem convinced; he stared at Death for several seconds before he grew thoughtful. “Courage knows Tisiphone,” he said, almost as if speaking out loud, while Death struggled not to react at the name of the other Virtue. “Maybe we should see what she thinks about this.”

“I think I’ll be going,” Death said as he stood up. “I just wanted you to know where I’ll be for… uhm, I don’t know? Probably not very long.” Until he got bored, so most likely not very long.

Compassion jumped to his feet while he waved his hands around, as if to keep Death from leaving. “Wait! You really should talk to her, you know. She’d like it if you did.”

“ _No_ ,” Death said, his tone making it clear that he wasn’t going to change his mind and didn’t appreciate Compassion pushing the issue; he didn’t care that the former dryad had been elevated to the role of Virtue, that she best encompassed Courage and was fulfilling the role with distinction – she wasn’t his mother and was deluded in believing that just because she’d taking over that Virtue, she had any responsibility toward him. She didn’t need to worry about his wellbeing, to try to stand between him and Destruction (especially when considering what had happened to the last Courage who had done that) or anything else.

“We’re just trying to be here for you,” Compassion said, his expression weary for some reason. “Nobody can stand alone, not even you.”

Death gave him a slight smile. “I think that’s the point of death.”

“No, the point of you is that even as they leave this world, there’s someone there for people,” Compassion stated while he shook his head. “So let there be someone for you, you stubborn fool.”

There wasn’t anything that Death could say to that, nothing he felt like arguing at the moment, so he allowed the tug of a life expiring to pull him away, to somewhere in South America. After that he just kept wandering, kept roaming around, sometimes staying in one place for only a few seconds, sometimes for up to an hour. It doesn’t matter so much where he was but the feel the place gave him, a sense of security, of blending in even if the humans didn’t see him, of there being a weight of life and death and time and power. He didn’t like the ‘newer’ places too much, the cities or towns that had grown up over the last few decades, the ones with wide open spaces and limited populations, because then it was too easy to spot the Named Ones, the beings of power.

It was too easy for him to stand out, for Destruction and Deception to find him. He didn’t want another repeat of Haiyuan, or-

He didn’t want that to happen, ever again.

But it was difficult to say ‘never again’ when one lived for so long, wasn’t it?

He drifted about until something drew him back to the same city as the day before, located somewhere on the West Coast of North America. It was on the outskirts of a large metropolis so he should be hidden well enough from his father and Deception, should be safe enough if he kept his power tapped down enough. Mindful of what Compassion had said, he concentrated on his outfit and changed the shirt into a lighter color of grey, the jeans to black and a little less baggy, and then it occurred to him that he probably needed some money.

When was the last time he’d used some? It was such a hassle, when society had moved on to a paper currency, he thought as he went to his ‘home’; he stepped out of the human reality and into the one he’d made for himself, into the large, basically open space which held everything he’d kept over the past millennia. It took a little digging around (the place wasn’t as bad as Compassion’s home, but it had been a while since Death had stopped by and he’d forgotten which chests he’d put things in), before he found where he’d left the money. As he suspected, it was all out of date by several decades, what he had for North America at least, so he just grabbed a large bag of gold.

Really, why did they have to keep changing things?

Checking that he was still good on time, he swung by San Francisco where Inari had established an branch office, and after dealing with the god’s acolytes for a nerve-grating half an hour or so (first they were terrified of Death appearing all of a sudden, and then they all but tripped over their paws and tails to wait on him), he was in possession of a ‘debit card’, a ‘driver’s license’ (something one of the acolyte’s had insisted upon) and a wallet full of money. He considered it a nuisance when things would only change in another decade or two, but at least he should be able to buy Tisiphone tea now.

That dealt with, he returned to the coffee shop to find that Tisiphone was already there, dressed with a knit cardigan over her red tank top and torn jeans and a bag slung over her left shoulder. As Death had suspected, the tips of her white hair had been freshly ‘dyed’ red, and there was a sharper edge to her that day; he wondered who had gotten their revenge, and just how bloody it had been.

He wished someone like her could have been there for him all those years ago, him and his mother, but there were certain rules in place for the Named Ones, and his mother had lost her Virtue for the ones she’d broken as it was.

“Hello,” Tisiphone said, her voice soft but eyes bearing a heavy darkness, one that made him uncomfortably aware of all the painful deaths occurring just then, all the lives cut ‘short’, of the children and women killed, of the people tortured and abused before they crossed over. A part of him recorded each and every one of those lives, held that knowledge inside of him… and she must be aware of them, too. Aware of a good bit of them, since most of them could call out to her if they believed, if they thirsted for vengeance for the wrongs done to them.

As Andrew had done, from what she’d said yesterday.

Perhaps that was why Death was always aware of Tisiphone, why he’d accepted her offer of tea. Why she made him nervous but why he talked to her all the same – because in many ways, they _were_ the same. They took in parts of humans when they were hurting the most, and did what they could to make it end, in one way or the other. Not that anyone thanked them for it.

She was a Fury, a creature of claws and fangs and pain and madness, and he was… well, Death.

“Hello,” he told her while he held up his new wallet. “I, ah, it’s my treat today. I came prepared.”

That made her smile and some of the darkness go away. “You saw Inari?” She gestured to the wallet, to the small golden fox stamped on it.

“Yes, I figured it was best, considering everything?” He motioned with his left hand around the neighborhood. “I’ll need it for things.” Even if he wasn’t quite sure what all those things would be, just yet.

“It’s good to see you taking this seriously. Shall we go in?” She waited for him to nod, then preceded him into the shop. Once more he was greeted with the rich aromas of coffees and spices, was avoided by humans who scurried around him while he and Tisiphone waited in line and Andrew took orders with an impassive expression.

When it was their turn, Tisiphone once again ordered Darjeeling tea while Death asked for Irish Breakfast, and Andrew paused to stare at him before ringing them up and telling him a number. Death reached into his wallet and pulled out a bill, remembering how Tisiphone had paid for things yesterday and set it down on the tray. “Keep the change.”

Andrew looked down at the money and then up at him. “I don’t like jokes.”

Death frowned at that then glanced over Tisiphone, who seemed to be biting back a smile, her sharp teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “It’s not a joke,” she told Andrew. “Though he’s been traveling a lot lately and I believe he needs to reacquaint himself with the currency. Just take it, it’s fine.”

Andrew continued to eye Death for a couple of seconds, then slid the tray closer to him and pulled a pen out of the drawer, which he swiped over the bill before huffing once. “Next,” he said, while shooting a look at Death from beneath his pale but thick eyelashes, expression still neutral but gaze strangely intent.

All right, how had Death messed that up? This human thing was much too confusing.

He waited until they had gathered their teas – he noticed that Tisiphone’s cup had ‘Natalie’ written on it and assumed that was the human name she was using – and were sitting down at the same corner table as before to ask. “Why didn’t he act that way with you yesterday?”

“May I see your wallet?” Tisiphone asked, so Death handed it over. The smile was back on her face as she went through the paper currency and pulled them slightly out of the wallet. “I gave Andrew a ten yesterday, but you gave him a hundred. There’s an extra ‘zero’, see?” She pointed to the corner of the paper. “Inari’s acolytes should have given you some smaller denominations, but I’m sure you’ll get them once you start spending the money. Just be mindful of using the card for smaller purchases and pay attention to what you hand people.”

This was all so very confusing – he could just relax the tamping down on his aspect and walk off with whatever he wanted. “But why was he so upset?”

Tisiphone’s smile faded. “Because people don’t usually tip that much. Because people never tip _Andrew_ that much.” For a moment it looked as if she was about to say something else, then just sipped her tea.

Death frowned at that while he glanced over at the expressionless blond man as he competently (as far as Death could tell – he kept the line moving at a steady pace) took people’s drink orders while behind him, several other employees laughed as they hurried to make the drinks, especially a young man with dark hair and deep tan complexion which was in stark contrast to Andrew’s pale looks. Yet he seemed very familiar with the other man, considering how he leaned near him to ask about orders and smiled at being shoved away.

“He seems good at his job, he should be tipped.”

That brought Tisiphone’s smile back for some reason. “So, I noticed that you’re using ‘Neil Josten’ as your human alias?”

“Yes.” Death sipped his own tea and nodded in enjoyment at the taste. “It’ll be easy enough to remember.” Inari’s acolyte had been able to set him up with whatever he needed for the human identity, for however long he wished to use it.

“It suits you,” Tisiphone said after studying him for several seconds.

“And what about you?” he asked as he motioned at the cup she held clasped between her razor-sharp clawed hands. “Natalie?”

“Natalie Shields,” she explained. “Not that I am often around any one place enough to use that last part, but Inari’s people are thorough.” She gave a slight smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve stayed somewhere long enough.” The smile slipped away as the darkness returned. “So many accomplishments, this past century, so many marvels, yet they keep tearing at themselves. They keep finding new ways to become monsters while claiming that we don’t exist.”

To feeding the Named Ones while trying to disprove them, to shore up the old ‘myths’ while trying to tear them down. Death sighed into his tea while he thought about how busy his father had become.

How no one was sitting near their corner, despite him and Tisiphone doing their best to be ‘human’.

They drank their tea in silence, then Death set the empty cup down on the clean table – a table decorated with orange fox paws, for some reason he still couldn’t figure out. “What do we do next?”

“Actually, we’re waiting for someone,” Tisiphone declared as she glanced around. “He’s late.”

“He?” Death frowned at he glanced around as well. “Someone to help get me set up?” Another one of Inari’s acolytes, maybe, or one of Hestia’s?

“Hmm, something like that.” Tisiphone reached into her bag for what turned out to be a phone, Death realized after staring at the odd device for a few seconds. “He reached out to me earlier and offered, and I agreed that you would need the assistance. It’s for the best.” She shrugged a little as she checked something. “Ah, he’s on the way.”

“What do you mean, he offered? How did he know?” Something didn’t seem right about that, but before she could say anything, the front door of the coffee house burst open and Compassion rushed in, hair even more of a spiky mess than usual, clothes in disarray and a huge grin on his face. “There you are! I thought you meant the _other_ Oakland! You know how many there are?” he shouted as he stomped over to them, all wide grin and loud voice, while everyone in the shop smiled at him except Andrew, who seemed to have a slight frown on his face. Andrew and Death, who was definitely frowning, and Tisiphone, who hummed a little.

“No,” Death stated, not that it seemed to do him any good as he was yanked from his chair and subjected to another awful hug. To being smothered and _dangled_ , dammit. Tisiphone hummed a little louder. “Down,” he gasped. “ _Down_!”

“Roomies!” Compassion crowed. “We’re going to be roomies!”

There was going to be a new Virtue very soon, damn the consequences, Death thought to himself as he was finally set back on his feet. “Why?” he demanded from Tisiphone while Compassion wheezed from the hit to his solar plexus – using power was out, but Death didn’t always have to rely upon his aspect when it came to fighting.

“Because it’ll be safer this way,” she told him while tapping her gleaming nails against the table. “He’ll be able to offset your nature a little with the humans, and mask it from others of our kind.”

“And help with the whole ‘living’ thing,” Compassion argued. “Which you suck at, Morty.”

“Neil,” Death snapped. “It’s ‘Neil’.” This was going to be a disaster, he could tell. What had he ever done to the Fates? To Destiny?

Compassion laughed as he tugged Death toward the counter. “I’m going to have to get used to that. So, want something to drink? My treat. How about some sort of latte? Oh, wait, you don’t like sweets, so maybe an Americano? Or a café au lait with vanilla, maybe?”

“Just tea,” Death gritted out, still not over the hideous concoction the Virtue had stuck him with back in San Francisco. “Black tea. Irish Breakfast, in fact.” Compassion was always after him to try new things. Horrible new things. He still hadn’t really forgiven him for the whole ‘séance’ debacle over a century ago. The words ‘come on, it’ll be fun’ pouring forth from Compassion’s mouth were sure to send Death as far in the opposite direction as possible.

Andrew’s face was even more impassive than usual, which surprised Death, when they reached the counter. “Stop disturbing the other customers,” he told Compassion, his tone frigid enough to impress Death and make Compassion blink twice.

“Huh, okay. I’ll take a large cinnamon café au lait and he’ll have another tea.” Compassion grinned at Death for a minute. “What’s… uhm….” He gestured back toward Tisiphone.

“ _Natalie_ will have a large Darjeeling,” Death sighed.

“Huh,” Compassion repeated. “Interesting.”

“Name, and twelve thirty-six,” Andrew told him, even as he stared at Death for some reason while the dark-haired young man came over to grin at Compassion.

“Matt,” Compassion told him while handing over a couple of paper bills without using the tray. “Why doesn’t your face move at all? Well, except to talk.”

The dark-haired man – he had a name-tag that said ‘Nicky’ – was quick to grab the money while Andrew switched his blank stare to Compassion. “So, you new to town?” he asked in a rush as he put the money down on the tray. “Fresh meat? I mean, freshmen or moved here for a job?” He batted his eyes several times at Compassion as if something was stuck in them.

The Virtue grinned as he patted Death on the back. “We’re both new to the area, guess you could say we got tired of wandering around and want to stay in one place for a while. Will probably look for a job while we’re here.”

“Oh, so you’re together?” Nicky asked while Andrew dropped Compassion’s change onto the tray and said ‘next’ in a loud voice.

“Hmm?” Compassion’s eyes grew wide for some reason, which Death didn’t understand; they were together in that they were two Named Ones who would be stuck in the same city and abode, yes. “Oh, not like _that_ ,” Compassion laughed. “We’re just friends.”

Didn’t he just contradict himself there?

Still, Nicky laughed again and nudged Andrew, which got him shoved about two feet in the opposite direction. “Did you hear that?”

“Move to the other end of the counter, you’re blocking the line,” Andrew ordered while staring straight ahead.

“Sorry,” Death said while nudging Compassion toward the end of the counter where they would get their finished drinks. “How is this you helping me again?” Could he really mess things up so badly on his own that he n _eeded_ Compassion?

“Oh shut up and just be all… well, yourself,” Compassion said while tousling Death’s hair. “We’re having an adventure. It’s going to be fun.”

Wonderful. “The last time we had an _adventure_ , there was an outbreak of the plague and mass pillaging, just saying,” Death reminded his friend.

Compassion winced as he rubbed the back of his head. “That was only once and not our fault.” At Death’s weary look, he sighed. “I swear it _really_ wasn’t our fault the second time, no matter what Aglaia claims.”

“I’m stating right now, I’m out of here the moment I see any boils appear on the humans, I don’t care about your sense of ‘adventure’,” Death proclaimed, which made Nicky give him a nervous smile as he came over with their drinks.

“Okay, that’s a first. You guys are different.”

“You’ve no idea,” Compassion told him with a wry grin as he accepted his drink while putting a few bills in the tip jar.

Nicky grinned back. “Different is good, we like different here.” He leaned a little more over the counter. “Say, if you’re looking for jobs, we’re always looking for help here. I can put in a good word with the manager.”

“Really?” Compassion got that ‘this looks like fun’ expression on his face, which usually meant that the screaming would start, soon. Death sighed as he grabbed the two teas and went where it would be safest, which was next to a Fury.

Why couldn’t he have befriended Wisdom or the new Temperance? His life would be so much simpler if he had fallen in with one of those Virtues….

Tisiphone set her phone aside when he approached and arched an eyebrow at the tea set down in front of her. “Where’s Compassion?”

“Something about a job, I think,” Death explained. “I hope you’re not too attached to this place.”

She smiled as she removed the lid to her cup. “I’m sure it’ll work out in the end.”

Death’s brow furrowed as he wondered why she kept coming here, if she visited other humans whom she’d performed vengeance for in the past or if Andrew was just that special. What it was that drew her to the coffee shop (other than the tea, which he was certain she could get at other places) and why she wasn’t worried about his or Compassion’s presences damaging it in some way.

What she sought to gain from him being there, since there had to be a reason for it. Because there had to be something more than just ‘you’ll be a better Named One if you understand humans’ to all of this.

He didn’t think she was working for his father or Deception, or else he never would have accepted her offer for tea, would never have considered staying in the area. But he did believe that she had a reason for wanting him there.

Did she have plans for Andrew? Or for Compassion, since she’d allowed him to be drawn into things?

Death didn’t feel that he mistrusted the Fury, not entirely… but he would watch out for what she was trying to do, for what she might have planned, just as much as he tried to figure out what it was about Andrew that made him so different from the other humans. Perhaps the two were connected.

“Is something wrong?” Tisiphone asked after a sip of her tea.

“I believe it’s going to be interesting, my stay here,” Death admitted, unable to lie but not forced to say answer things directly.

“Yes, I agree,” Tisiphone replied with that mysterious smile of hers.

Death sipped his tea as well and wondered how much trouble he could get in, staying in one place for a few days. Might be best to contact Wrath soon, he supposed while Tisiphone continued to smile.

*******


	2. Death Gets a Job

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, thank you so much for the comments and kudos and everything for this story! I know it's a bit different and I really appreciate that people seem to be enjoying it and willing to give it a try!
> 
> That said, more Andrew!!! You get a peak at him in this universe.  
> *******

*******

Andrew parked the Scion FR-S next to the older Camry in the small driveway and grabbed his backpack from behind the seat when he got out of the car, ignoring Nicky’s rambling all the while with a long-practiced ease. They both went to their respective bedrooms once they were inside the small ranch house, where Andrew changed out of his ‘work clothes’, the black jeans and long sleeved shirt with the grinning fox logo that smelled of coffee and cigarette smoke; they went into the hamper, along with the workout clothes from earlier. Once dressed in sweatpants and another long sleeved t-shirt, he left his room so he could have a cigarette out on the back patio.

Bee was in the kitchen making what looked to be a salad to go along with dinner, and greeted him with a warm smile. He nodded to her on his way to the patio door, and slid the door open while shaking a cigarette free with his left hand. Once out on the small concrete pad, the stone rough beneath his bare feet, he lit up the stick and felt some of his tension ease as the smoke entered his lungs.

He glanced out over the small back yard and the mismatched fences that hemmed in the mostly brown grass, and ignored the shrieks and laughter of the neighborhood kids, the passing traffic of the vehicles on the nearby streets and the plane passing overhead. All that mattered was the smoke that he inhaled and exhaled and the faint murmur of voices in the room behind him.

Once the cigarette was burned down to the filter, he tossed the butt into the large ceramic pot which once had housed some plant that not even Nicky could make thrive in the shade-filled backyard and now served as Andrew’s and Bee’s ashtray. Then Andrew returned into the kitchen to find Nicky, now dressed in dark skinny jeans and a clingy light blue shirt, his short black curls gelled into an artful mess, setting the table while Bee pulled a store bought lasagna out of the oven.

“Wash your hands,” she chided Andrew with a smile, which he did before sitting down.

“So, obviously I’m heading out tonight,” Nicky said as he passed around the basket of sliced bread. “Mariela’s going to pick me up so we can study with Henry, and then we’re meeting some other friends at Tartarus.” In other word, a usual night for the pest.

Bee shook her head at mention of the club. “Be careful,” was all she said though, since Nicky was of legal drinking age.

As always, her respectful concern made Nicky smile. “I will.” Then his smile took on a wicked edge when he glanced over at Andrew. “I mean, don’t wait up for me, but it won’t be _too_ crazy of a night. We have that test tomorrow after all, and it’s going to be a great day at work.” He dared to nudge Andrew in the side, which made Andrew pick up his butter knife even though he was finished buttering the bread. “What with the new guys and all.” The pest even had to go so far as to waggle his eyebrows in a suggestive manner, which he was soon going to be relieved off, what a shame.

“Hmm, so a mystery about some guys, why am I not surprised,” Bee said as she poked at her salad with a slight smile on her face. “It’s always about ‘some guys’ when it comes to you, Nicholas.”

Nicky gave an exaggerated gasp at that as he set his fork down and clutched at his chest. “It’s… it’s as if you _know_ me!” He laughed a little while Bee shook her head and Andrew wished yet again that the thing known as the ‘internet’ had never existed. “But it’s not just _me_ this time,” Nicky told Bee as he folded his arms over his chest. “I mean, I’m all there for tall, dark and climbable, but _someone_ apparently has a thing for redheads.” He grinned at Andrew – at least until there was a knife pointed at his face. “Oh _come_ on, you do!”

“You know the rules, no bloodshed at meals,” Bee reminded Andrew as she tapped the table by his left elbow with her fingers. “And don’t tease your cousin,” Bee chided Nicky.

“I wasn’t teasing him,” Nicky pouted as he picked up a slice of bread and began to tear it into pieces. “I was just stating a fact. He got all upset today when it looked as if Neil, the redhead, had a boyfriend, which he doesn’t.”

“No, I didn’t,” Andrew insisted between bites of the cheese lasagna.

Now Nicky appeared pleased, his moods as mercurial as a child’s. “Right, that’s why you told that one customer to fuck off.”

“I always tell customers to fuck off.”

“He hadn’t even _ordered_ yet,” Nicky told Bee with a huge grin, as if relishing the story. “Tall, dark and climbable came in, glomped Neil and the ‘fuck off’s commenced! We lost about three customers before I found out that they were just friends!”

Andrew picked up the butter knife again. “And now we’re about to lose a barista.”

“Andrew,” Bee sighed as she took the knife away with practiced ease. “Eat your dinner. And Nicky, I believe you may be projecting your obvious attraction for at least one of these young men onto your cousin.”

Ah, the fun of living with a psychiatrist. Andrew gave his cousin a narrow look of satisfaction while he had another bite of lasagna and Nicky took to pouting once more. “I’m just saying, it’s the most interest Andrew’s shown in anyone. We’ll see what happens when Wymack hires them tomorrow.”

Bee hushed him up by talking about her own day, as much as she could considering that she dealt with patients for most of it. After a couple of minutes Nicky got over his snit and was his usual talkative self while Andrew finished his dinner in peace.

Soon enough, Nicky had to get ready to go out with his friends, and helped Bee clear off the table and do the dishes. Once he was gone for the night, Andrew and Bee sat down in the kitchen with their mugs of hot chocolate, the room quiet except for the faint hum of the dishwasher.

“So, are those two guys really that attractive?” Bee asked with an amused smile while she tucked back a lock of her chin-length hair; Andrew noticed that there seemed to be a few more strands of grey in the pale brown than normal, and wondered if she appeared more tired than usual or if it was just his imagination. Sometimes he still thought of her as she’d been back when he’d shown up at the Alta Bates Medical Center for evaluation after the whole ‘Drake’ thing, with the colorful skirt and chocolate bars and the kind smile. Back when she’d just been his therapist and not his adopted mother.

She still liked to ask him questions, even if Dr. Shahin had taken over as Andrew’s therapist once Bee had fostered him. Now as back then, she would smile while she paused in speaking, making it clear that he didn’t have to answer, that she was only curious as to what he was feeling but she would never pry too far. She only asked things like how his day had been and what he thought about the things that had happened during it, about everyday matters.

About normal stuff. About things he imagined one’s ‘mother’ would ask, insofar as that Bee was his ‘mother’; she was that in a legal sense, was the woman who provided him a safe place to live, who had ensured that he had stayed out of the foster care system until he’d turned into a legal adult over a year ago. She had done so much more than his real mother had ever done for him, than any of the women who had taken him in over the years – even Cass. He could admit that last part now without feeling too much pain.

Hell, she’d even taken in Nicky when the pest had shown up on their doorstep.

Because she was doing everything she could to provide Andrew with a home, the only one he’d really ever had, he treated these quiet evenings with her with the respect he felt she was owed. Because if he asked her something in return, she would consider it and answer it the best of her ability, barring if it touched upon her job or any confidentiality she shared with other people. So he sipped his hot chocolate as he thought about the question she’d just asked and how he wanted to answer it, and what it would demand of him to answer it.

“I don’t see why Nicky’s babbling about Matt,” he admitted after a few seconds. “That’s ‘tall, dark and climbable’, which is true in the sense that he’s ridiculously tall, has dark hair and eyes, and I suppose would be advantageous to have around to help scale walls. But other than the fact that he looks to be in good shape, he’s not that attractive.” Andrew didn’t understand why Nicky and the rest of the Laughing Fox’s staff had been gushing over the guy. Why the patrons had stared after him while smiling.

“Well, attraction is a bit of a subjective emotion,” Bee said after some sips of her own. “Dependent on sex, age, facial features, race-“ she laughed when Andrew sighed in exasperation. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to do that all the time. Maybe I should follow Abby’s suggestion and start a ‘Betsy’s rambling’ jar or something.”

“Could have gotten a better car if you’d done it years ago,” Andrew muttered into his mug, and frowned when his left foot was nudged.

“What, you don’t like your graduation present after all?” Bee asked in a too-sweet tone, then waved her hand in the air when Andrew’s expression smoothed out and shook her head to show that she was only teasing – that she knew he’d only been teasing as well. “Don’t think I’m going to fall for your attempt to change the subject. You said that _one_ of the guys isn’t attractive, which means that you must think the other one is.” She smiled as if pleased with herself, both of her hands wrapped around the mug and plump cheeks almost brushing against the bottom rims of her narrow glasses.

Andrew almost got up and went to his bedroom at that point, but it would only prove Bee’s point, wouldn’t it? “He’s… not bad.” Fuck, that was as good as saying that yes, Neil was in fact attractive. He was attractive as hell. From the moment that the redhead had stepped into the coffee shop with Natalie, there had been something about him that had drawn Andrew’s attention to the teenager, something that had made him stand out. Maybe it was the fact that he was only a couple of inches taller than Andrew’s own five feet, which was rare. Or the way that people moved around him, getting out of his way without even looking at him, like waves parting before him.

Maybe it was how _he_ looked at Andrew, so confused yet surprised, with huge blue eyes that were so clear and intense. Andrew wasn’t used to people paying that much attention to him, to watching him with something akin to fascination. Not him, the freak, the fuck-up, the soulless monster.

“I see,” Bee said when he didn’t elaborate farther than that, more than willing to let him talk – or not talk – at his own pace. “Let’s hope he’s able to put up with Nicky, since it sounds like they’ll be working together.”

Andrew scoffed while he sloshed around the last bit of hot chocolate in his mug. “That’s _if_ Wymack hires him – the idiot doesn’t seem to know anything about coffee.”

“Hmm, but David seems to like giving people a chance to prove themselves.” Bee held out her hand when Andrew finished his drink; he gave her his mug so she could make some more, just another cup and then he had some homework to do before bed. “He puts up with you, after all.”

“Ha, ha.” Andrew wondered how many people bought Bee’s ‘motherly’ image, the ‘kind’ woman with the flowing skirts and tops, the glasses and the slightly frumpy appearance thanks to the extra pounds and minimal make-up and plain hairstyle. The generous laugh-lines on her face and casual demeanor, and all the while she just sized people up to figure out their weak points and quirks and everything else.

There was a reason why she’d decided to take on a damaged brat and succeeded where everyone else failed, why Andrew had been able to connect with her. It helped that she actually treated him with respect and care… but yes, there was sharpened steel beneath that soft exterior.

They talked about general stuff after that, how he was doing in his classes and her workload for the upcoming week, before he returned to his room to do his homework. He got ready for bed so he could study a little then crash for the night; he had a few things left over for his criminology degree that he hadn’t done already during the day. His average was more than fine and he was keeping up on the course load despite working at the Laughing Fox, and didn’t want that to change since he’d gotten a few grants and small scholarships to help with the tuition fees.

Done for the day, he powered off his laptop and shoved everything back into his bag, then stretched out on his bed so he could get some sleep. If he thought about any redheads that night, he refused to acknowledge it.

*******

Death blinked when an excited Compassion led him out of the coffee house to the next door parking lot, where a huge blue monstrosity took up much of the space in the back corner. He frowned at it while dwelling on humans and their need for 'improvement; he missed how they used to get around on horses for transportation. Horses he understood, and they often had the most amusing stories to tell. Not the best memories, granted, but the stories they did remember could be amusing if not poignant.

"Yes? It's blue,” he said when his friend seemed to be expecting something of him after gesturing to the awful thing. “Are we going now?" he asked, failing to see the point of standing here amid a bunch of metal and plastic and rubber.

Compassion sighed, something Death suspected he'd be doing a lot in the near future. "What do you think about it?"

"I just said, it's blue." Death frowned when Compassion continued to stare at him as if expecting more than that. "And it's obnoxious. Can we go?"

"Why do I bother?" Compassion mumbled, some of his smile fading as he pulled out something from the right front pocket of his jeans and clicked on it, which made the lights of the monstrosity blink. "Get in."

Death did some blinking of his own. "Did I miss something? When did you become Delirium?"

"Ha, ha, an hour among the humans and you're already developing a sense of humor, this is going to be a riot," Compassion said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he stepped up onto the metal railing on the side of the truck and opened its door.

"Please don't say that word," Death said while cringing. "We really don't want to start another one."

"Just get in the damn truck, all right?" his friend pleaded with him, so Death did some sighing of his own and went to the other side, and frowned when he had to _climb up_ to get into the huge thing.

"Why are we doing this? We can just," he waved his right hand about in the air, "and go anywhere."

"Because we are doing our best to be human," Compassion explained, each word spoken with an obvious amount of enunciation. "And humans drive around, they don't just magically appear wherever they want to be. Just like we'll living in an apartment and working among them."

This was becoming annoying, Death thought to himself when the truck came to life with a very, _very_ loud rumble. "Why are _you_ driving?"

"Do you know how?"

"No, but do you?" Death was having more than a few doubts on the matter; just because they were immortal didn’t mean he enjoyed what ‘fun’ new ways his body could be damaged.

Compassion grinned. "Oh yeah, I do this all the time!"

Death had to brace himself against the door and the front part of the truck as it backed up in a rather fast manner. "Pardon me if I'm not convinced. I still remember that time in Fulda."

"Ah, come on," Compassion groaned. "It wasn't my fault that we crashed."

"The horses didn't share your opinion," Death informed him before looking ahead. "Uhm, are we supposed to be in this lane? All the other cars are driving the opposite way."

"Oops." Compassion jerked on the wheel thing and they went careening into the other lane while several cars honked their horns and flashed their lights at them. "Don't distract me, and I only crashed the wagon back then because of all those people chasing us to get the girl back."

"Because you had to rescue her in front of a screaming mob - you know what, I'm not arguing this anymore, it's been four hundred years." Death closed his eyes, which would hopefully make the whole ride more bearable. "No riots," he swore. "No plague and no riots. This was supposed to be me staying here for a few days to learn something." Why had Tisiphone called his friend?

There was more honking and what sounded to be some shouted curses, then Compassion chuckled. "It'll work out, you'll see. All the other attempts you made at 'living' failed in the past because you did it alone. You just need someone to show you the ropes, so to speak."

"I need to figure out what I've done to offend the Fates," Death countered, while he did a quick mental review of the last millennia or so. He thought he'd always been respectful of those three, it was one of the important things he remembered his mother teaching him. Always watch his back, always respect the major Rules (even if she'd fallen afoul of that one), never stop running, and never insult the Fates. He'd also been cautious the few times he'd interacted with Destiny, and didn't think the man had a problem with him.

But his mother also had warned him to never make assumptions.

The rest of the ride was quiet (except for the angry blasts of horns) until they reached the apartment complex where one of Hestia's acolytes was waiting for them, fortunately not very far from the coffee shop. Compassion parked the monstrosity and Death jumped to the ground (he didn't care what his friend said, he would figure out an alternative method of transportation), so they could go inside the building, which had an 'older' style of architecture than the other buildings around it, one that reminded Death of when his uncle had taken to dressing in suits, of him being dragged to parties with gin and champagne after one of the 'world' wars about a century ago. He'd been so... so drained back then, a bit overwhelmed by the constant flow of angry souls streaming into him, by the knowledge those souls left in their wake, something that hadn't happened since one of the major plagues. Wrath had insisted on 'looking' after him, of fussing over him and trying to cheer him up, and the sight of the building for some reason made Death smile.

Compassion noticed it and grinned. "I thought you might like it. Let's go see what Maura has for us."

They went to the front of the building and found a young woman waiting for them, her dark brown hair pulled back in a neat bun and pale green eyes a startling contrast against her smooth, dark complexion. "Hello, you must be Mr. Boyd," she said while she greeted Matt, and then her eyes widened when she noticed Death. "Ah, I'm sorry, I didn't realize that-"

"It's all right," Compassion told the panicked young woman. "I mentioned a roommate, right? His name is Neil."

"Neil Josten," Death supplied as he stepped back a little to give her some space. The woman was doing better than most humans with his presence, as expected of one of Hestia's handmaidens, but best not to overwhelm her.

"I was thinking we'd just stick with my name on the paperwork or whatever, though. You know keep it simple," Compassion said with a smile as he motioned toward the building.

"Yu-yes, I understand. Let me show the apartment to you." Maura nodded as she did something to the door, not that Death paid much attention; being what he was, locks never stopped him, nor did almost any wards. "It's on the third floor, and as requested, has two bedrooms. You don't have to worry about any documentation, that's handled by the Golden Hearth Corporation. Just call my number when the place is no longer required or if there are any issues."

Compassion appeared upset for some reason; Death was willing to bet that he'd seen something in a movie about paperwork and had looked forward to it. That was something that his friend enjoyed, acting out things he'd seen or heard about humans doing without giving much thought on if they were necessary. He tended to throw himself into everything, to want to embrace it, and it was often why they ended up with things like riots and mobs and massive existential crises.

To give Compassion credit, Death was _mostly_ certain that the plagues weren't on them. Maybe just an unfortunate side effect, or something. Still, he was in no hurry for another one any time soon.

Maura led them to an elevator that took them to the third floor, then down the hallway to 3C, which was an apartment with gleaming wooden floors and high ceilings, with windows along the one plastered wall and a small kitchen that Death didn't bother with much other than to glare at Compassion when his friend appeared excited about the various appliances. Compassion wanted the bigger bedroom, calling 'dibs' on it while waggling his eyebrows, but Death didn't care since the smaller one was the corner room with windows along two walls and a fire escape outside.

"The building has historical value so it can't be remodeled too much, but it also has higher ceilings and some features that the tenants enjoy," Maura explained. "It's proven very popular with our more... _exclusive_ customers."

"We love it," Compassion said, which Death thought was a bit much; it was an abode, plain and simple. A thing they didn't even need, considering that they had their own 'homes' already, and didn't even technically need to sleep or eat or any of the things that humans did.

"Wonderful." Maura smiled at Compassion, her face glowing for a moment, and then she cleared her throat while she glanced over at Death, her hands tugging at the hem of her dark gold blazer. "Then please, don't hesitate to call me if you need anything." Her left hand clutched tight around the strap of her purse, she handed Compassion what looked to be a set of keys and then left in an obvious hurry.

Compassion smiled at the things, his expression a bit strange, and then he grinned at Death. "All right, it's time to do some shopping!"

"Have fun," Death told him, figuring he could use the time to check out in on his responsibilities. However, before he could step 'away', he found the hood of his shirt grabbed and himself dragged toward the front door of their new apartment.

"Ah, ah, you're coming with me. We need to buy some furniture together, roomie!"

Death was beginning to wonder if it wasn't perhaps Tisiphone he'd offended in some manner.

*******

Death sat in the small room which now contained some sort of convertible bed covered with a grey blanket and a couple of pillows, a small dresser and a lamp; he'd refused to buy anything more for the space, since he didn't need more than that, and they'd already made enough trips going back and forth to the one store to get the items for the main room. Once they'd crammed what Death 'needed' for his room into the monstrosity, he'd insisted that he was done humoring Compassion and that his friend could finish the shopping on his own. As it was, he'd retreated to his room for the rest of the night, while Compassion had done just that and now noises filled the apartment, artificial sounds of explosions and gunfire and battle - Death was only too familiar with the real ones.

Compassion must be playing one of those stupid games. Death didn’t understand why humans created the things when they’d lost so much to the real wars, when Destruction spurred them on to wipe out each other and all the great things they’d created. Why they had to destroy something in one way or another, why they never learned. Why the blamed _him_ for so many of their ills.

Still, it was better that they kill imaginary copies of each other than actually take a real life. Not that his job had gotten any easier with the creation of such games.

As for himself, Death had warded his room so no other Named Ones could enter uninvited save for Compassion or Wrath, nor any humans, and then opened the windows so he could enjoy the faint breeze blowing outside. He sat on the floor with his back propped against the bed and watched as another stray cat poked its head in through the one window leading in from the fire escape.

/Sanctuary?/ she asked while she eyed him with curiosity, noting the other three already curled up on the bed and the two in the open closet.

"Yes," he told her; she hopped into the room and gave him a quick nuzzle to mark him with her scent before jumping up onto the bed as well. The other cats ignored her while she curled up into a small ball and went to sleep.

He'd always gotten along well with cats, from what he understood it went in part with the Name but he could also remember faint images of him curled up in caves or grass huts with more feral versions of them tucked against him to share body heat. Back when he'd been- He shook his head and smiled when another cat came in, that one choosing to curl up on his lap.

Cats weren't afraid of him, of Death, was what mattered in the end. They weren't afraid of him, and he might be a bit lax when it came to them if they were determined to continue on. They couldn't escape him forever, but some he allowed a little leeway. In return, they granted him respect and some small bit of affection, which he took for the honor it was.

He spent the night sitting on the floor, awareness focused half on the cats who came to visit and half on the souls who passed through him. It was a pleasant way to pass the time, and he frowned when Compassion first knocked on the door then entered his room.

"Oh, you have company," his friend said while holding his left hand out for the grey tabby on the bed to sniff. "Ready for our job interview?"

"I suppose," Death said as he set the small calico currently curled up on his lap aside so he could stand up. When he noticed his friend's frown, he sighed. "What?"

"You need to change - you can't show up in the same clothes as yesterday." When he merely stared at his friend, Compassion groaned. "They notice these things."

"Fine." Sure, things like filthy water, despots and bad architecture got a pass, but him wearing the same shirt for a short span of time was cause for alarm? It was hopeless, trying to figure out humans. He concentrated for a moment, and the shirt's color lightened while the material grew looser, and he added a few rips to his jeans to mirror what he'd seen Compassion wear upon occasion.

"Better," his friend said before motioning toward the door. "And I'll pick up some cat food while I'm out today, since it looks like they'll be staying."

Death left his bedroom door open, though he doubted the cats would stray past the room he'd personally warded; he sensed that Compassion had dealt with the rest of the apartment and that was fine. They went down to the monstrosity, where Death sighed but climbed into the thing, vowing to figure out another way to the coffee house if they were indeed to be stuck working there for the near future.

There were more loud horns and shouted curses at them along the way, which made Death believe that no, his friend did not indeed know how to drive, but they more or less arrived at the Laughing Fox (again, Death wondered about the bright orange paw prints on the windows – as far as he could tell, it wasn’t one of Inari’s businesses. Inari had more taste). Compassion somehow found a parking spot, making Death believe that his friend had probably obtained the damn thing from Hermes – which would explain why they were still in one piece, despite Compassion’s horrible driving ability.

Muttering in a long dead language about humanity’s inability to stick with perfectly fine things like horses, Death jumped to the ground once the monstrosity was parked, only for Compassion to laugh at him. “You have to jump down from them, too, you know.” He grinned as he patted Death on the top of the head, all smug in being a tall monstrosity himself. “Horses, I mean.”

“They’re still not so bad, and not as noisy,” Death argued as they went into the coffee shop. As expected, the customers and employees smiled at Compassion and didn’t seem to react too much to Death’s presence, other than to avoid him.

Compassion smiled at the young woman bearing a name tag ‘Jocelyn’ who was working behind the counter. “We’re here to see the manager about some jobs?” Death thought she’d been the one to hand him his tea the first day he’d been there with Tisiphone, and was a little upset that he didn’t see Andrew. After all, the human was part of the reason why he was doing all of this.

The girl smiled at Compassion and then appeared confused when she noticed Death. “Oh. Ah, one moment while I get him. The owner, I mean.” She motioned for one of the other employees, a young man, to cover the register for her, while Death and Compassion stepped aside as she went to fetch the owner.

It took a couple of minutes, but Death felt it when she returned – felt the approach of another Named One. No wonder Tisiphone favored this particular coffee shop, considering who owned it. Compassion huffed a little as Janus glowered at them from behind Jocelyn, his coarse dark hair cut short and standing up in a spiky style, even tinged with a few strands of grey, his muscular forearms emblazoned with tribal flames and dress casual with a black t-shirt bearing the shop’s logo and tan cargo shorts.

“What the fuck?” he asked while his aspect flared, flooding the shop with the feel of power which made Jocelyn gasp in surprise. Then he seemed to notice what he was doing because he glared at Death, who sighed when he assumed what the god was silently asking of him.

He reached out with his power and time seemed to _stop_. He couldn’t do it indefinitely, and it didn’t stop time for him, Janus or Compassion – for any Named Ones within the immediate vicinity (or stop time at all, really, more like it just… shifted them _out_ of time). He couldn’t do it for too long without drawing other Named Ones to the coffee shop to investigate what was going on, but it would keep the humans safe while Janus settled down, at the least.

Janus grunted in approval before he folded his arms over his chest. “What the fuck are you doing here? _You_ two maggots are Matt Boyd and Neil Josten? Are you shitting me?”

“Wow, nice mouth there,” Compassion mumbled, and then winced when Janus’ glare went up a notch. “Yes, I’m Matt and he’s Neil, and honestly, we’re just trying to get a job. We had no clue that you’re running a coffee shop,” he said with a shaky smile. Then he seemed to think about something. “Why _are_ you running a coffee shop? What’s with the foxes? Since when are they your thing?”

“Lost a bet with Reynard, dammit,” Janus muttered, now appearing a bit chagrined instead of furious.

“Wait, _what_?” Compassion all but yelled, his expression stunned. “You bet again a _trickster_ figure?” Despite the situation, Death had to agree with his friend – it wasn’t one of the rules his mother had passed on to him, because it really went without saying. You didn’t bet against a trickster figure, you didn’t piss off a Fury, and you never tried to out-drink a maenad (or piss _them_ off, either – actually, it was in one’s best interest to not anger any of the female Named Ones, Death had learned).

Janus groaned as he rubbed his large right hand over his grizzled hair. “There was a lot of alcohol involved and it was the anniversary of – wait, this isn’t about me, all right!” he snapped at the Virtue, seeming to settle his attention on him. “You brought _Death_ into my shop! You’re actually telling me that _Death_ is going to serve coffee to a bunch of humans? With what, a side of fucking _cyanide_?”

Death blinked at the accusations while he tugged the hood of his t-shirt further over his head, about to leave the coffee shop for perhaps Dublin or Tokyo, when Compassion made a low growling sound. “You didn’t just go there,” Compassion said, his hands clenched into fists and his expression one of pure fury. “God of _transportation_ and _doorways_ ,” he spat, which made Janus flinch, his temper now gone. “Where’s a damn door right now, so I can slam it in your face?” It wasn’t often when the Virtue’s ire flared like that, but as always, it was impressive.

Janus had the grace to look ashamed just then, since the Virtue had reminded him of how humans could take things and twist them, could put false labels on them. “All right, I deserve that,” he said, his deep voice now gruff as he nodded at Death. “But even if this place started out as a joke, I take it very seriously.” He glanced over his shoulder at the young people frozen in place, at the employees bearing the smiling fox’s head on their shirts. “I take my job _seriously_ ,” stressed the god of beginnings and transitions, of what Death knew to be second chances. “I try to hire kids in need, who are at the crossroads and help them figure out which direction to take. To give them a safe place for at least a few hours a day, a chance to make money the right way and learn some skills, to eat and drink when they think my back is turned and shit like that,” he huffed. “I don’t want that fucked up by you two.”

Compassion smiled while he gave Death a quick pat on the left shoulder, all signs of his previous temper gone as soon as he heard that explanation. “We’re not here to do that, honest. We just want to spend a few weeks living as human to figure some things out. You wouldn’t even have to pay us.”

Wait, what? A few _weeks_? Death frowned at his friend while Janus once more rubbed at his hair.

“Well, we are short-staffed right now, and we’ll need to replace the one roaster pretty soon. Not having to pay you will go a ways toward that cost.” Janus seemed to be thinking it over while he eyed the two of them. “You’ll need to keep the powers wrapped up and swear not to harm any of the employees or customers.”

“We can do that,” Compassion said in a rush without consulting Death, which meant that his nice, white sneakers suddenly grew cracked and grey, his jeans faded and a bit thread-bare, along with his bright blue jersey.

“And _he’ll_ have to be kept away from the customers,” Janus continued while he motioned toward Death, his brown eyes narrowing as he caught that flash of power. “What about your father? Is it going to be a problem, you hanging around in one place for so long?”

“Tisiphone is watching out for him,” Death said when he realized that the whole job thing seemed to be happening despite his reservations – his and Janus’.

Janus grunted. “Tisiphone, why am I not surprised?” the god muttered as he rubbed at his forehead as if he had a headache. “Nothing ever good comes from a Fury hanging out somewhere all of the time.”

“Better a Fury than a Harpy, no?” Compassion asked with a nervous laugh.

The look the god gave the Virtue just then was one which made it clear that he believed Compassion to be a blithering idiot – Death felt some vindication just then, because for once it wasn’t directed his way for not knowing what bits of technology were being dangled in front of his face or why he had to bother with being polite to people he couldn’t stand (everyone knew what Deception had tried to do him, why did Temperance get so upset when Death truthfully refer to him as the ‘backstabbing prick’?).

However, all Janus said was, “any Harpies show up, you’re dealing with them. Now come on, let’s get you squared away.” Then, right before Death restored them back to the normal flow of time, he held up his hand. “And refer to me as ‘Wymack’. I go by ‘David Wymack’ now, not Janus.”

“Got it,” Compassion said, right before Death relaxed his hold on time and the world once more flowed around them.

“All right, so looks like you’re our latest applicants,” Janus – no, _Wymack_ – said while Jocelyn gave a nervous laugh. “Come on, let’s go back to the office and talk about a few things.” He smiled at the blonde-haired girl. “I’ve got this, Joce. Thanks.”

“All right, Coach,” she told him before heading back behind the counter to work with the other employees.

When Death arched his left eyebrow at that, Wymack shrugged. “They’re more comfortable calling me that than ‘sir’ or ‘boss’.”

Death didn’t understand humans and their need to give things so many different names, why they couldn’t just accept something’s innate nature and go with it. He was Death, which was his purpose in life, his reason for being. Because he existed there was life, there was a beginning and more importantly, an _end_ to all things – even Named Ones.

There was a reason why he really only talked to Wrath and Compassion.

Yet even with him, humans tried to redefine him, to reimagine him. To cast him as some sort of dark angel or monstrous figure, as something to be bargained with or possibly outrun. There was no escaping an ending. That was its _purpose_.

Death had a feeling that a few weeks wouldn’t do much in helping him figure out humans, and wondered why he was even bothering.

*******

Andrew showed up for his shift at the Laughing Fox with Nicky in tow, crowing about how he’d aced his one communication’s test earlier in the day even when he’d spent a good bit of the night dancing with some hot guy. As usual, Andrew tuned him out, not wanting to hear about his cousin making out with some random stranger when it would just be some other guy some other night.

He’d point out that Nicky was a bit of a slut, but then Nicky would just retort back that Andrew was too much of a prude and then would end up being stabbed for his troubles, and Wymack got grumpy for some reason about blood being spilled inside of the coffee shop. Something about health hazards and people slipping on the mess and scaring the customers, and then Bee would go on about anger management classes and unresolved issues about Andrew’s sexuality and - it was too much of a hassle, all in all.

Andrew didn’t have issues about his sexuality, not really. He’d accepted the fact that he was gay when he was fourteen, and even made an attempt or two at dating. Rather pathetic attempts in the end because of trust issues, because of people failing to understand his need for boundaries, but Bee had called them ‘learning experiences’ and Nicky had claimed that those guys weren’t good enough for him anyway. 

Sometimes Nicky wasn’t so much of a pain in the ass.

Andrew might have been a little surprised to walk up to the counter to find Neil behind it frowning as a nervous Jocelyn apparently tried to show him how to work the espresso machine. A bit put off by the whole situation, he canted a displeased look at his cousin, who was grinning way too much at the moment. “Wow, so Wymack hired them on the spot.”

“I hate you,” Andrew told him, which only made Nicky grin some more.

“Yes, hate me for having Wymack hire the gorgeous redhead you’ve been eye-fucking the last two days. You can thank me la-ow!”

Andrew felt some satisfaction upon driving his right elbow into Nicky’s ribs.

He went through the door which led to the back room where he could stash his backpack and grab his apron out of his assigned locker, then punched in at the monitor which recorded their times and tips for ‘big brother’. That done, he was about to go up to the counter, where he was supposed to work for the next four hours, before Wymack flagged him down.

“Dobson,” the man called out in his gruff voice, which made Andrew sigh inwardly.

“What?”

“Pleasant as always, you damn dwarf,” his boss bitched; if the man wasn’t all bark and no bite, as well as allowed his employees to eat one free snack while on shift, Andrew would have found another job. Maybe. Wymack did put up with a lot of shit, after all.

“What do you want?” Andrew elaborated while motioning toward the front of the store.

“We have two new employees, Neil and Matt. Neil will be learning how to make drinks and Matt to work the register, so try to be semi-friendly for once,” the man said while glaring at him. “You can be your usual anti-social self after they’ve been tricked into thinking this job is doable.”

By way of an answer, Andrew gave him the finger while heading up front, and heard Wymack mutter something about ‘why the fuck do I bother?’. Why indeed?

He found Neil still learning the drinks from Jocelyn, who had a strained smile on her face, and for some reason he sighed as he went up to the girl. “Do you want to switch?” He didn’t understand what her problem was with the redhead, but she flashed him a grateful smile.

“Yes!” She took a hasty step back while looking over at the tall asshole – Matt – who was standing by the register with Toby, who was waiting impatiently since it was near the end of his shift. “I was just showing Neil how to make lattes.”

Andrew usually only made drinks on the weekends when it was really busy, but with his memory he knew them well enough that training wouldn’t be a problem. “Fine.”

Jocelyn all but fled over to the register which really, Andrew didn’t understand. Yes, there were the tips, but those were shared with everyone on shift. There was little doubt in his mind that Jocelyn would make more than him – well, except when it came to a certain customer. A customer who now was an employee.

He eyed Neil up and down, noting the hooded t-shirt worn beneath the Laughing Fox t-shirt with the large, deep hood pulled over Neil’s head despite the fact that he was working. This was the third time he’d seen Neil, and each time he’d been wearing a hoodie of some kind, usually pulled over his head as if hoping to hide either his bright hair or his face. A face that was gorgeous with those cheekbones and pale blue eyes, with that nose and defined chin. There was something almost oddly ethereal about Neil, as if he would fade away at any moment. It wasn’t helped by his lean build, by the way he held himself aloof from everyone, apart and ready to walk away at any moment.

In fact, Andrew leaned in a little as a test and as expected, Neil leaned away to keep the space between them, those riveting eyes focused on Andrew as if to remain aware of where he was at all times. “Uhm, hello?” Even Neil’s voice was elusive, was some strange accent that was difficult to put down. It was British… almost. Was something that Andrew had never heard, was a quiet murmur as if he didn’t want to attract attention to himself, was a half-whisper that slipped into Andrew’s head like a fucking earworm.

Neil was a damn contradiction, was an utter mystery. Was a puzzle that begged to be picked apart and broken down until it was solved.

Andrew hated puzzles, because they drove him crazy. He had to keep at them until he knew all the answers, until the mystery of them was resolved.

“You’re supposed to be learning this shit so pay attention,” Andrew told Neil while he glanced at the screen above the espresso machine to see the new orders. “We need to make this stuff, and I’m not going to keep showing it to you.”

“All right,” Neil said as he stared at Andrew’s hands, his expression intent and hands twisting about on the hem of his work shirt as if he was nervous.

Andrew scoffed at that, but he made a point of slowly working his way through the drinks, aware of Neil’s attention while he listed the ingredients and the ratio of coffee to milk to flavor shots. Neil nodded as if to show that he was following along, and repeated everything back correctly when Andrew quizzed him through the day.

“You sure that you’re following along?” Andrew asked after a couple of hours, when there was a lull in customers.

Neil gave a negligent shrug. “It’s not that complex, considered to how the Italians do things.” His gaze turned a bit inward just then, as if he was recalling something.

Natalie had said something about him traveling, hadn’t she? About how he had messed up the currency because of that. “You travel a lot?”

“Yes.” Neil frowned a little, as if curios as to why Andrew was asking him that question. “Don’t you?”

Since he’d started it, Andrew thought it only fair to answer. “I’ve lived in California all my life.”

“Oh.” Neil seemed a bit puzzled by that answer. “But there’s a whole world out there.”

“I’m only nineteen and it costs money to travel,” Andrew reminded the idiot. “How can you manage it?”

Neil seemed to focus a bit much on the mocha frappuccino he was making as a test drink. “My mom… she traveled a lot,” he said once the drink was finished, and Andrew noticed that he did a good job at it. “Always on the move, and I was always with her.”

Andrew also noticed that Neil mentioned his mother in the past tense. Yet before he could ask another question, Nicky came barreling over toward the two of them. “So, how is it going? You two look intense, so it’s going well, yes?”

Neil flinched from Nicky’s presence, quick to put space between the two of them. Meanwhile, Matt joined them as well with a grin on his face while he wiped his hands along his black apron. “It’s going all right,” Neil admitted with that quiet manner of his.

“He’s picking up things faster than you did,” Andrew told his cousin. “What about the jock?”

It seemed to take Matt a few seconds to realize that Andrew was talking about him, and then he grinned like the moron he was. “It’s fun, interacting with the hu- ah, the customers.”

“We’re raking in the tips with him on the register,” Nicky proudly proclaimed. “I can get that new jacket I want now!”

How nice to see that people could be so easily swayed by a friendly face and a big grin; Andrew reached into the display case to grab a brownie, and noticed when Neil frowned at him. “What, didn’t Wymack tell you about how we get to have a free snack each day?”

“Yes, but you ate something an hour ago,” Neil said.

“Nicky doesn’t eat his,” Andrew explained. “Has to keep his boyish figure.”

Nicky nodded while he smoothed his hands down his sides. “It’s true – somehow I missed out on the same metabolism as Andrew. Don’t want to put on the weight and have the hot guys overlook me, right?” He batted his eyes at Matt while he spoke.

Meanwhile, the jock grinned at Neil instead of rising to Nicky’s bait. “What do you care, you don’t even like sweets. I brought back all that stuff from Blé Sucré the one time and you wouldn’t touch it.”

Neil shook his heads as he dried his hands on one of the towels scattered about. “It’s the principle, right?” Then he looked over at Andrew, who had finished the brownie and reached back into the display case as soon as he’d heard that Neil didn’t like sweets. “Wait, you’re eating _another_ one?” His blue eyes had someone grown even wider as he gaped in Andrew’s direction.

“You’re not going to eat yours, right?” Andrew selected a chocolate muffin that time. “No point in it going to waste.”

“But….” Neil jerked his right hand through his hair, which knocked back the hood of his light grey shirt, as he stared at Andrew. “But that’s-“

“Don’t stare at me,” Andrew told him. “And clean the nozzles, don’t let the milk get all cruddy on them.”

He swore that Neil said something to him just then, he just didn’t know what language it was, exactly. It might have been Gaelic, but it sounded rather odd, rather rough, and then Neil was scowling at the nozzles of the espresso machine as he rubbed them down while Nicky grinned and Matt gave his friend an odd look. For some reason the rest of the staff – Adam and Randie – didn’t want to hang around Neil and so were busy wiping down the tables and restocking things – stuff they usually put off until the very end of their shift.

Munching on the muffin, Andrew turned to give a flat stare at Matt, who was frowning at him – at least until Andrew met his eyes. Then he shook his head and glanced over at Neil. “Hey, don’t forget that we need to go shopping tonight,” he called out to his friend; Andrew didn’t understand just how exactly the two had become roommates, but had to admit that after seeing them together for a couple of hours, he didn’t get any vibe from them that there was anything more between them other than ‘friends’.

Neil’s shoulders stiffened at the comment. “Shopping for what?” He didn’t sound happy about the activity, for some reason.

Matt sighed as he returned to the register. “Food and clothes.” He glanced over his shoulder at Neil. “You really need some new things to wear.”

Nicky joined the jock as well, since he was training him. “Hmm, that seems like a lot of stuff to do.” Then he grinned in a way that instantly put Andrew on alert. “You know, Andrew and I can take Neil clothes shopping, we’re rather good at it.” For some reason, Nicky flashed a grin Andrew’s away before he looked up at Matt and batted his eyes. “I need to get a few things so it won’t be any problem.”

Yes, yes it would be a _huge_ problem, in that Andrew didn’t want to spend his evening with Neil, the oblivious, _gorgeous_ idiot. The gorgeous idiot who looked over at him with a puzzled expression on his face while he dropped the cloth from the now clean nozzles of the espresso machine to tug at the hem of the grey shirt worn beneath his work shirt as if wondering what was the problem with his outfit. The too-large shirt that swam on his narrow frame with the ridiculous hood which hid the riot of auburn curls and his gorgeous – all right, enough with the damn ‘gorgeous’, Andrew told himself.

So what if the idiot was attractive? He was used to having attractive people around him, it wasn’t a big deal. So what if this particularly attractive person just so happened to look at _him_ an awful lot, as if there was something special about him?

Wymack clearly hated him, for hiring Neil. Maybe it was payback for sneaking all of the extra snacks. Natalie was in on it, too, for bringing the redhead to the coffee shop.

“Oh, that’s a wonderful idea! It’ll let me get the grocery shopping done.” Matt beamed at Nicky, while Neil took to shaking his head in a frantic manner. Andrew understood the feeling, but he refused to show it.

“Great! We’ll get him some decent clothes then return him to you all safe and sound! How does that sound, Andrew?” Nicky grinned at Andrew, and seemed to miss the promise of a painful death Andrew tried to send his cousin’s way while finishing off the muffin.

Meanwhile, Neil tugged the hood of his shirt even more over his head as if believing that he could disappear if he covered enough of his face. Nice try, but not happening; if Andrew had to suffer, so did the idiot.

It was going to be a long night; Andrew wondered what he’d done to piss off the Fates, since he’d given up in believing in God years ago.

******* 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *******  
> It's really fun to hear from people on this AU, their thoughts on things (who is who). I'm slowly bringing in various Foxes and characters, and again, not all the Named Ones will be Foxes/AftG characters, and not all Foxes/AftG characters will be Named Ones. But they'll play important parts in the world's mythology. Oh yes they will. 
> 
> As you can see, some big changes to Andrew's back story... but I will say that his life was much the same up until the Spears. Obviously something happened (you might be able to figure out what) soon after he met Drake, and his life diverged from the TFC at that point. You'll learn more about that (and how he crossed paths with Nicky) in upcoming chapters (unless you're that desperate for answers, it's not a big secret, I just don't want to be too info-dumpy with the plot).
> 
> And no, I don't hate on Matt's truck, I just think Neil would be all 'wtf, why something so BIG and BRIGHT and BLUE'.
> 
> All right! I promise to the Armies readers, next chapter will be up on Wednesday!  
> *******


	3. Death Goes Shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a couple of answers in this chapter, some more obvious than others. 
> 
> Warning - it's very brief and not descriptive at all but reference to some of the abuse Andrew faced in the past, toward the end of the chapter.
> 
> And I look at things and I'm like... I still have to do this and this and this... bah. I think this is going to be a few more chapters. Maybe it's not going to be as short as I was hoping....  
> *******

*******

Death didn’t understand why, after he’d been good and suffered through a few hours of serving coffee and tea and snacks, Compassion had turned such a foul traitor and shoved him into the back of a small metal device and told him in a rather chipper voice ‘see you later’ then left him to his fate. He had believed them to be friends, a rather foolish belief on his part, he reflected upon as he contorted his body – which he knew to be on the small side considering how disgustingly _big_ the humans could grow in the current generations – to fit into the back of _Andrew’s_ car. Andrew’s rather _small_ car. Andrew’s rather small car which wasn’t a vehicle pulled by a horse, which was taking him to a damn building so he could buy clothes or something, against his will.

He really, really missed horses and carriages at the moment. Not that anyone bothered to ask him what he wanted just then, oh no. Not that he was a major _Named One_ or anything, not that he was _Death_.

Fuck it, it was really, _really_ bad when he thought of himself with emphasis like that.

The truth of the matter was, he was used to his nature scaring off almost everyone, to keeping almost everyone but Wrath and Compassion at arm’s length – and that wasn’t taking into account mortals. So why were Andrew and Nicky driving him to some ‘mall’ even if they thought he was human? Yes, he was dampening his true nature, but almost all humans still avoided him, still acted as if they didn’t notice him or as if he was something undesirable. For these two to not only interact with him but to do it willingly… he had to assume that they weren’t purely ‘human’. They had to have something in their blood to give them some sort of resistance to his true nature, to allow them to suffer with his presence. Perhaps some witch blood or even divine inheritance, a generation or two removed.

It probably would explain his fascination with Andrew, depending on which god or Named One could be traced back in the young man’s lineage, but Nicky? Nicky was a bit annoying with the way he kept talking and talking and _talking_. Death didn’t understand it, though he’d received more than a few complaints from Wrath and Compassion over his inability to hold up a conversation (and that ‘he’s a fucking prick’ wasn’t a suitable discussion topic).

“So we’ll hit the store and get you a few things,” Nicky said while he tapped on his phone for some reason; beside him Andrew drove on in silence, his face once more an expressionless mask while he smoked a cigarette. Death had the impression that Andrew wasn’t in the best of moods, perhaps it was from eating so many sweets in the last few hours. Hmm, could it be that he was one of Potnia’s or Ixcacao’s descendants? “What all do you need? Some new shirts, obviously, and some jeans.” Nicky twisted around in his much bigger seat to look at Death as if expecting an answer.

“Uhm….” Death tugged on the hem of his current shirt, unable to figure out what was wrong with it – it covered him and had a hood. That was all he required of his clothes. “I need things.” He really, really hated Compassion just then.

There was a weary sigh from Andrew’s vicinity while Nicky smiled, the expression oddly amused. “Yes, that’s what we’re going to get you. What all do you have?”

Death blinked at that, wondering just what the human meant. Did he mean everything back in what Death considered his home or the apartment? While he debated that, Nicky sighed as well. “Okay, do you have money?”

“Yes.” That was easy to answer as Death held up his wallet.

“All right then,” Nicky said with a pleased smile as he turned to sit back in his seat. “Then we’re going hardcore Pretty Woman style tonight.” Whatever that meant. “At the end you’ll look so good that _some_ knight will swoop in and drive off with you for your happily ever after, you’ll see.” For some reason, he was looking at Andrew while he spoke.

That made no sense to Death – the knights he remembered were mostly assholes and always rude to him. “No thank you,” he told Nicky. “I don’t like them.”

“Eh?” Nicky twisted around once again to frown at him. “Don’t like what?”

“Knights,” Death explained. They had been smelly and brutish and mostly uneducated, and caused him a lot of work. He’d been quite happy when that period of time was over.

“Really?” Nicky appeared unhappy just then. “You don’t like men? Really? But I- ow!” He glared at Andrew for a moment while rubbing his left arm before looking back at Death. “You don’t swing that way? You really like women? I’m never wrong about these things.”

“I don’t ‘swing’ at all,” Death informed the young man with a slight frown of his own, confused as to why they were talking about these things when he needed clothes. Now he was sounding a bit like Compassion and Courage, and Death had thought he’d settled this particular topic over a century ago.

Now Nicky appeared incredulous. “ _What_? Not at all? Not even for a hunky blo- ow! Dammit, Andrew I’m working here!”

“Sit down and shut up,” Andrew told his cousin, sounding a little irate for some reason.

“Fine,” Nicky grumbled as he once more sat properly in the seat.

“No,” Death continued. “Not at all. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“That’s just… that’s unnatural,” Nicky muttered, but a quick glance from his cousin made him shut up for once.

Death didn’t understand the human’s reaction, but then he’d had to put up with Compassion’s and Courage’s meddling in that regard for how many centuries. There was nothing keeping a Named One from having a ‘relationship’ with another Named One (it was how he’d come about, back when he’d been – well, back when he hadn’t been Death) or even a mortal. Except the problem of being immortal and having an affair or relationship with someone else meant that things… tended to get messy. Someone often got hurt or offended or _worse_ (such as Death’s parents) and then you had to live with the fallout for the rest of your very long life unless you passed on your name.

So Death was rather happy that he hadn’t felt any urge to have a relationship or an affair, to involve himself with another person, ever. He looked at people and… nothing. It wasn’t a side-effect of being Death, being for all intents asexual, not when the other Deaths had taken lovers, so it was just something about him. There had been a moment or two when he’d felt a bit of interest, back when he’d been… back when he’d been Abram. But he didn’t like to think about those times.

Those times were long past, his mother was gone, Abram had died at the hands of Destruction and Deception, and all that was left was Death.

And as Death, he was perfectly fine on his own, on not wanting anyone. Maybe it was working out all right so far for Compassion, whatever he had with Courage, but it wouldn’t be the same for Death. He had learned that lesson well from his mother, more wisdom imparted from her by harsh example, loud words and painful force.

The ride to the ‘mall’ (one of those large buildings with all of the stores in it – sometimes it took a while for Death to make an association with a word, what with too many languages and too much knowledge in his head) was quiet after that, and Death was grateful to finally climb out of the small car once it stopped. That was until he noticed Nicky’s assessing gaze and Andrew’s too-apathetic one, and wondered once again what Compassion had gotten him into.

“Hmm, you’ve got promise Neil, this will be fun,” Nicky said in a too-cryptic, altogether worrying manner. “I don’t care what you said, we’ll find you a knight after all.” Once again he glanced at Andrew while talking.

His cousin’s hazel eyes narrowed as he brushed his right hand along his left forearm. “That eager to die?”

Nicky gave a nervous laugh at the odd comment as he motioned toward the mall in front of them. “Come on, time to shop!” When Death hesitated for a moment, he found his left arm grabbed and himself bodily hauled forward by a now grinning Nicky. A grinning mortal who was _touching_ him while talking about skinny jeans and pastels and sneakers and – Death really, _really_ had to look into some sort of offering for the Fates, as soon as possible.

*******

Andrew didn’t understand why he had to suffer through this… this whatever it was – could it be considered hazing? It might be some sort of torture, what Nicky was doing to the new kid, considering the look on Neil’s face just then, the wide blue eyes and evident confusion just short of bleeding into panic as Nicky hauled him even deeper into the store.

Andrew was only tagging along because he had the car, he told himself, that and to keep Nicky somewhat under control. It had nothing at all to do with those blue eyes or that Neil had managed to get through a shift without annoying Andrew too much. After all, Neil didn’t _swing_.

Nicky came to a halt in front of a rack of jeans then turned to Neil, who had been quick to pull his arm free of the pest’s grip as soon as possible. “So, what size are you?” When all Neil did was stare at him in even more confusion, Nicky clicked his tongue. “I need to know what size jeans you wear – what are you? You look really skinny, so what, a 28? A 26 even?”

Neil just shook his head as he reached up to pull the hood of his grey shirt even further down his forehead, apparently rendered mute for some reason, while Nicky gave Andrew a confused look. “All right, so what, you’re used to European sizes or something?” Nicky asked after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. “Lucky for you, I’m an expert on this stuff.” His smile strengthened as he eyed Neil up and down, then reached out to pat Neil on the hips a couple of times – an action which made Neil jump back in evident shock and Andrew give his cousin a warning glare for the obviously unwanted touch.

“Hey, it’s all good!” Nicky said as he held up his hands. “I just needed to get a feel for what’s you under there, all right? Now I know what size to pick out.”

“ _Keep your damn hands to yourself_ ,” Andrew snapped in German, “ _if you don’t want to lose them_.” He wasn’t going to stand there and watch Nicky get pushy with the poor kid.

Nicky was quick to shake his head, his hands still held up to show that no more touching was going to happen. “ _No, I wasn’t trying anything, honest_ ,” he told Andrew in a hurry, panic making his voice high-pitched. “ _I’m not hitting on him, I swear it! I mean, he’s gorgeous but he’s not my type_.” He frowned as he risked a glance at Neil, who was staring at them with a blank look on his face and still well out of touching range. “ _There’s something about him_.”

Right, as if Nicky had ever held back from a hot guy before; Andrew gave him another warning glare for a few more seconds before he scoffed and looked over at Neil. “Don’t let him try any shit with you.”

“I wouldn’t do that, I’m a gentleman,” Nicky said with an offended sniff as he resumed searching through the jeans.

Meanwhile, Neil remained still for a few more seconds and then cocked his head to the side, which made Andrew wonder how old he was. He looked at least a year younger than Andrew, but there was something about his mannerisms, about his eyes that made him seem a lot older. “That back there, that was German, wasn’t it?” Neil asked.

Nicky smiled as he picked out a pair of black skinny jeans. “Yes! I lived there for a year when I-“ His expression flickered a little into sadness and he focused a little too much on the pants for a few seconds. “Well, it was a few years ago, and I learned a lot while I was there.” His smile rallied as he grabbed another pair of jeans from the rack. “I helped Andrew with his German, in fact, when he studied it in high school.”

“The pest is good for a few things,” Andrew said as he took out his phone to check for any new messages; he’d let Bee know that they were going to be late getting back that evening and she finally responded that she hoped they had fun and to keep the mayhem down to manageable levels. Ha, ha.

“Yes, such as finding the outfits that’ll make you look so hot!” Nicky grabbed a couple more pairs of jeans and then motioned them on to another rack, that time featuring long-sleeved shirts. “So, what’s with the hoods? Is it like a fa-“

“I like hoods,” Neil proclaimed as he gave a tug to his. “What about them?” He peered at Nicky from beneath the edge of grey fabric and auburn curls, his lips pressed into a thin line and a slight edge to his voice as if he didn’t appreciate being asked about his stupid desire to hide his face as if he was a wanted man or something.

“Oh-kay,” Nicky sighed. “Definitely a fashion statement, but we can work with it.” He eyed Neil for a couple of seconds and then picked a few hooded long-sleeved t-shirts in various colors before moving on to sweaters.

“Uhm, wait,” Neil called out. “Those aren’t for me, are they?” He reached out to tug on a pale pink shirt. “That’s… that’s not… it’s… uhm, I don’t….” He appeared flustered about something and was shaking his head enough to make the hood slip back.

“Yep, it’s for you all right, you lucky thing. Now let’s see, we need something that’ll show off those hips of yours, they were just- ah, right.” Nicky’s grin turned nervous when he caught sight of Andrew’s decidedly flat look. “We’re keeping things PG-rated, I forgot.”

“I don’t, but that’s… I like grey,” Neil continued as if Nicky hadn’t said anything. “Those aren’t grey.”

“Oh sweetie, you need to expand your horizons,” Nicky sighed. “I know redheads worry about clashing with stuff, but you’re in good hands.”

“No, you’re not,” Andrew muttered as he wondered how much longer this was going to take – he was getting hungry and had homework to do. “Avoid his hands.”

Nicky gave him a displeased look at that. “I don’t want to hear fashion advice from someone who only wears black.” Even though he very well knew what Andrew had been talking about just then.

Meanwhile, Neil had taken to tugging on the edge of his hood again. “Can I just buy a pair of pants or something and go?” he asked, his tone utterly plaintive as he glanced around the store. “This whole concept of rampant consumerism is relatively new, from a historical perspective, and utterly ridiculous.”

“Oh, are you a history major?” Nicky asked as he added several fitted sweaters, in various colors despite Neil’s protest, onto the growing pile on his left arm.

Neil seemed to be confused by the question once again; Andrew was wondering if English wasn’t the redhead’s native language or if he had mental problems. “I… I know a lot about it,” Neil admitted in a cautious manner, as if reluctant to talk about himself. Actually, Andrew realized that Neil had said very little about his past all day long.

“So you’re not going to school right now?” Andrew asked as he leaned against a rack of t-shirts and pulled them from their hangers, one by one, just to give himself something to do.

Neil frowned at him and shook his head. “No, I’m not. Why are you doing that?”

“Doing what?” Andrew stared at him while he continued dropping the shirts onto the ground, curious to see how the idiot would react.

“Doing….” Neil paused to take a deep breath as he tugged at his hood some more. “I don’t understand any of this.”

“Understand what?” Nicky paused in his shopping to come over to Neil, his expression concerned. Just great, someone was getting attached, which was not what Andrew needed. “What’s confusing you?”

Neil stared at the pest with those big eyes of his, their color strangely clear and his expression so chagrined that Andrew found himself bemused by everything even though he hated malls and shopping and putting up with Nicky when he was like this. Part of him noted that no one was around them, even though the rest of the store was busy, which was strange.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you picking out all of these clothes that I don’t need and talking to me and… and… I don’t know." Neil bit into his full bottom lip while looking around, and Andrew found himself growing flustered at the sight for some reason, found himself looking away while annoyance flashed through him. “This doesn’t happen to me.”

Andrew found Nicky giving Neil an oddly tender smile just then. “Isn’t it about time that it does? We’re helping you out because we want to be friends with you.” Something in that statement made Neil stare at Nicky as if he was insane. “Look, I know what it’s like to be a bit different, to not fit in,” Nicky confided as he shifted the heavy stack of clothes onto his right arm. “I… well, my parents are really religious and they couldn’t handle me being gay. They tried… they tried a lot of things,” he said, skimming over all the shit that Luther and Maria had put him through. “It got to the point that when I found out that I had a cousin out here, I tracked him down and ran away.” Nicky flashed a grateful smile Andrew’s way. “So I know how important it is to find someone who accepts you and is willing to help you out.”

Neil continued to look at Nicky as if he was insane after that little confessional, which wasn’t that far from the truth, his fingers still busy on the hood of his t-shirt; Andrew had the suspicion that he used the hoods to hide his face, to try to blend in even with that ridiculous hair and those eyes and that face of his. As if he had any chance of being overlooked once someone caught a decent glimpse of him. “But you don’t even know me,” Neil argued. “I don’t need any help.”

Nicky shook his head while even Andrew scoffed at that. “Wymack hired you so you need _something_ , and considering the fact that you’re freaking out over new clothes, that _something_ is a hell of a lot of help,” Nicky pointed out, for once getting things right.

“But-“ Neil frowned and shook his head. “I don’t need anything, I’m-“ He went still at that and shook his head some more while he muttered in that odd language from before.

Meanwhile, Nicky chuckled and reached out to pat him on the head. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but trust me on this. Now, let’s see what else we need, all right?” Now Nicky’s grin turned wicked. “How are you on underwear, hmm? Can’t have your knight taking off all these nice new clothes and coming across an old pair of tighty whities, right?”

Andrew was going to kill him. He was going to kill his cousin in the middle of a department store, and no one who knew Nicky could blame him. Meanwhile, Neil gazed at the pest as if it was _Nicky_ who was speaking a foreign language.

“I… I don’t understand,” Neil admitted. “And why do you keep talking about knights?”

Nicky gasped at that. “Do you go _commando_? Andrew, did you hear that?” He looked much too excited at the moment.

“My head hurts,” Neil said in a very quiet voice. “This is so much more confusing than I thought.” He huddled in on himself, his gaze vacant and arms wrapped around his chest as he seemed to think about something.

“ _Behave_ ,” Andrew snapped at Nicky in German, whose smile was replaced by something guilty as he reached for Neil, only for Neil to flinch away again.

“Ah, I’ll go grab a few more things and then we should be good,” Nicky said, his demeanor serious for once. He headed off to another part of the store, which left Andrew alone with Neil. With the gorgeous, troubled idiot who appeared almost catatonic just then.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance and checked his phone again, to find a message from Bee that there was some leftover chicken tacos for dinner if he and Nicky didn’t grab anything while they were out. Not his favorite, so he was tempted to pick up some sandwiches – since they were here because of Neil, it should be the kid’s treat. “Are you hungry?”

“Excuse me?” Well, that got a reaction out of him at least.

“Dinner. What are you doing for dinner?” Andrew asked. “We’re doing you a favor, you should treat us for this shit.”

Neil’s eyes cleared after he blinked a couple of times and he focused on Andrew; for some reason, Andrew felt as if Neil was studying him intently, was doing more than just _looking_ at him, if that made any sense. “Dinner?”

“That meal you eat in the evening,” Andrew drawled, once again going with the theory that English wasn’t Neil’s native language. “Where the hell are you from?”

Neil gave a slight shrug at the question. “All over. What about you?”

Not exactly a clear answer there, so Andrew hedged as well. “I’ve lived in California all my life.”

“I see.” Neil once more bit into his full bottom lip as he frowned. “You want to eat dinner? With me?”

“No, I want you to pay for dinner,” Andrew clarified dinner. “But I suppose you can be there for it.”

“I see,” Neil repeated as he cast a longing glance back the way they’d come into the mall. “I suppose. As long as it’s not burnt rancid deer.”

Andrew was also going along with the ‘mental problems’ theory. “No, not tonight.” When Neil nodded at that, he couldn’t help but sigh. “Have that often?”

“Only once,” Neil said as he reached out to touch a denim jacket hanging on a rack as if he’d never seen one before.

“Family dinners must be interesting at your house,” Andrew remarked, and noticed Neil’s closed off look in return. He was slowly starting to piece together things about the redhead, to try to figure out the puzzle, and hated how each part only added up to a bigger mystery. Neil didn’t like to be touched and was careful to stay out of people’s reach, was mindful to not give much away about his past, and every indication was that his home life wasn’t normal. It was obvious that he’d traveled a lot and didn’t seem to have many possessions, judging from his confusion over buying new things and dislike over the items. Did that mean he didn’t have the money, or just hadn’t had it until recently? He had assured Nicky earlier that he had the cash for clothes, and hadn’t balked at buying them dinner.

Nicky returned a few minutes later, his arms full of clothes and his expression smug. “I think this will do it for now. Do you want to try any of it on? I mean, I’m certain it’ll fit, I’m just that good at what I do, but it’s up to you.”

Meanwhile, Neil had taken to staring at all the clothes with an expression resembling panic. “All of that? Why would I need all of that?”

“What do you mean? This is nothing, you should see what I buy whenever there’s a really good sale and I save up some money,” Nicky told him while heading toward the nearest register. “Right, Andrew?”

“I’m not associated with your idiocy,” Andrew proclaimed as he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

“But I bet you’ll appreciate how Neil looks in these,” Nicky said in a sing-song tone of voice, which meant there would be words later – Andrew was getting tired of his cousin’s little ‘hints’ and everything. Neil had said that he didn’t swing, that he wasn’t interested in dating anyone so Nicky needed to drop it.

As for the idiot, Neil seemed hung up on how much Nicky had picked up on him. “Seriously, I’m good with just a pair of pants and a shirt or two, that’s way too much.”

“Nope, you’re getting all of this. Matt warned me that you’d leave the store with maybe a shirt and a hoodie if you had your way, and he was right.” Nicky beamed at the woman working the register as he dropped everything onto the counter. “We doing anything after this?”

“Dinner,” Andrew said. “Neil’s treat.”

“Oh, that sounds great, shopping always makes me hungry. What are we having? Mexican?” Nicky appeared hopeful, at least until Andrew shook his head. “Pizza, then?”

Andrew considered it for a moment before he nodded, while Neil’s eyes grew wider and wider while each item was rung up and folded. He seemed in a state of shock at the huge pile of clothes, and Nicky had to wave his hand in front of the idiot’s face to get him to pay for everything.

Once more mumbling beneath his breath, Neil pulled out some odd black credit card and gave it to the saleswoman, and the purchase cleared a few seconds later. Soon enough Nicky was helping Neil with all of the bags, while Neil kept trying to say that he didn’t need everything even though it was too late – he’d already bought it.

They went back to the FR-S and crammed the stuff and Neil into it, before heading off to the one pizza place that Andrew liked that wasn’t too far from their house. Along the way, Nicky checked his phone to answer some texts from his friends and something seemed to occur to him. “Hey, what’s your phone number?” he asked Neil, only for there to be silence in return.

He sighed as he twisted about in his seat. “I promise not to hand it out or anything,” he told Neil. “Come on, we’re friends now! How can I text you some adorable gifs if you don’t give me your number?”

“Leave him alone,” Andrew told the pest as he blew out smoke from his cigarette. “He doesn’t need you drunk texting him.”

Nicky gasped at that. “I would never- well, I wouldn’t do it too often, I promise,” he told Neil.

“Uhm, I don’t have a phone.”

Nicky gasped again. “Oh my god, you poor thing!” He tried to fit even farther into the back seat before Andrew hit him, prompting a cry of pain from the pest; when Andrew glanced in the rear view mirror, he found Neil cringing away, expression confused once more. “Why? Are you one of those Luds… Ludditches… oh, what’s the word?”

“Luddites,” both Andrew and Neil said at the same time.

“Yes!” Nicky gave Andrew a pointed look before turning his attention back onto Neil. “Why don’t you have a phone?”

Neil shrugged and once again took to pulling his hood over his face. “No one to call.”

Nicky’s expression crumpled for a few seconds, and then he forced a smile. “Well, now you do, you have two people to call.”

“Speak for yourself,” Andrew muttered as he passed some slow-ass driver, even as he tried to think of a reason why someone Neil’s age wouldn’t have a phone.

“Two people,” Nicky repeated as if Andrew hadn’t spoken. “So you need to get a phone and then you need to give me the number, all right?”

Neil shook his head, so Andrew gave his cousin yet another warning look to drop the matter. Nicky had that annoying jut to his jaw which signaled that he wasn’t even if he shut up about it, the one Andrew had learned to recognize over the last four years, but at least he was quiet until they got to the restaurant.

Somehow, Andrew wasn’t surprised that Neil appeared to have no clue about pizza. He stared at the menu for a couple of minutes then just shook his head and left it to Nicky and Andrew to order, other than going with water to drink rather than any soda. For some odd reason, the young man taking their order seemed to ignore Neil, to the point that Nicky had to repeat Neil’s request for water to drink.

When the two large pizzas with extra cheese, jalapenos and mushrooms arrived (Andrew took advantage of Neil paying and figured anything left over would be breakfast the next day), Neil watched with rapt attention while Nicky and Andrew had their first slices before taking one himself and having a tentative bite. Emotions flew over his face too fast to identify, but he ate the entire slice before sipping his water and then folding his hands on his lap.

Nicky paused in eating to smile at him, a bit anxious. “So, what do you think? They have some of the best pizza around, we’re here a couple of times a month.”

“It was interesting,” Neil said with a slight nod, his tone and expression neutral as he sank back into the shadows of the booth.

‘Interesting’. Andrew gave the idiot a bland look while having another slice and tried to figure out if ‘interesting’ was good or bad – apparently, Nicky was doing the same. “Ah, there’s a lot left,” Nicky said as he motioned to the two pies. “Have some more.”

“No, that was enough.” Neil shook his head and sat back even further in the seat, his gaze distant once again.

Did the idiot have an eating disorder or something? Andrew frowned around the crust in his hand, and Nicky’s expression grew worried. “Do you want to order something else? Or we can stop for something else when we drop you off,” Nicky offered.

“No,” Neil said, his voice soft as if he wasn’t really paying any attention. “I had enough.” He cocked his head to the side as if looking at something that wasn’t there, his face a blank mask and eyes almost empty. Andrew stiffened at that, familiar with the sight of someone mentally withdrawing after his years in foster care, at the sight of people escaping the present reality for something ‘better’.

He slapped his hand against the table, anger stirring inside of him at the thought that Neil found something distasteful about his and Nicky’s company when Nicky was going out of his way to help the idiot, to be friendly and everything, and the noise seemed to startle Neil back into the present, to make those blue eyes focus on him even as Nicky jumped in his seat. “I haven’t seen you eat anything in the last several hours. Don’t go passing out on us and being even more of a pain in the ass.”

Neil frowned while Nicky hissed at him about being rude. “I don’t – I don’t eat much,” Neil said as he once more played with the hood of his t-shirt. “I’m sorry, but that was enough.”

“It’s okay,” Nicky said in a rush. “But no wonder you’re so small.” He laughed a little while toying with his half-eaten slice of pizza. “It’s not often we find someone around Andrew’s size, right?” He grinned at the both of them, and winced when Andrew glared. “So what brought you here, Neil? Have any family in the area?”

“No.” Neil stiffened at the question and his answer came out with a curtness that made Andrew blink. Of course Nicky missed that, probably too eager to carry on some sort of conversation and get over the sudden uneasiness in their small group.

“Is that why you’re living with Matt? You’re lucky to have a hot roommate like him.” Nicky made a fanning motion while he leered. “So are you taking a… what do they call it, a gap year or whatever before going to university? Your family-“

“ _Don’t_ ,” Neil said, the light catching oddly in his eyes to make them shine bright for a moment. “Don’t mention my family.” There was a roughness to his voice just then, a strange weight to it as he stared at Nicky. “ _He_ has nothing to do with this, _nothing_.”

It was quiet around the table for almost a minute, and then Nicky nodded. “All right. I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… I’m sorry.” While his cousin stammered out an apology, Andrew picked up another slice of pizza and studied Neil Josten, inwardly sighing over how the teenager just had to keep turning into a bigger and more interesting puzzle by the minute.

Neil had alluded to his mother being dead, earlier in the coffee house. Now there was that ‘he’ just now, in reference to his family. A very heated ‘he’, loaded with blatant loathing. Add that to the ‘no one to call’, to a young man being in California with what appeared to be only two friends – Natalie and Matt – and Andrew was going to say that Neil wanted nothing to do with his father. Was the feeling mutual? Someone was paying for all those clothes, for that huge tip Neil had left, for the pizza and the apartment Neil was sharing with Matt. A trust fund from his mother, perhaps?

Neil continued to glare for few more seconds, while someone walking past their table complained about a sudden chill in the air. Then his gaze faltered and he started to play with the napkin on the table in front of him. “It’s… it’s all right,” he told an almost frantic Nicky. “I just… I don’t like talking about _him_.”

Nicky smiled in relief. “It’s okay, I understand,” he said in a rush. “I mean, my dad’s an asshole, too. I mentioned that, right? He can’t accept me being gay.” For a moment pain flashed over Nicky’s face, but his grin made a quick comeback. “He tried – well, he couldn’t accept it, so as much as it hurt, I realized I had to get out of there.” When he glanced over at Andrew, Andrew recognized that look on his cousin’s face but couldn’t grab the butter knife off of the table fast enough before he ended up being given a quick one-armed hug. “But I still had Andrew, and I’m so lucky him and Betsy took me in!”

“Get off of me before you lose your spleen,” Andrew warned as he shoved the pest away, while Nicky just laughed. “And thank Bee, I voted that we kicked your ass out onto the curb but she’s the soft-hearted fool.” She took Andrew in, after all, what was one more stray?

“He’s really a big softy,” Nicky told Neil in a mock whisper. “A true romantic at hea-aow!” Nicky wailed as Andrew kicked him in the shin, which drew the attention of the nearby tables to them and made Neil smile, just the slightest bit.

The expression transformed the idiot, made his eyes glow again but with a softer light and he appeared so young just then, so young and innocent and, in some unfathomable manner, _touchable_. Made him seem _real_ , more solid, as if he was more of a specter than a person sitting there the rest of the time.

Which was a confusing thought to have, along with wanting to _touch_ someone. It usually took longer for Andrew to work up to that level of attraction toward a person, but there was something about Neil (as cliché as that was, dammit). It was more than just the teen’s appearance, though that face didn’t hurt, it was the sense of mystery, the bundle of contradictions that made him up, the way he could be so quiet one moment and then flare up the next. He was so damn _interesting._

Nicky steered the conversation onto safer topics, such as possible new phones for Neil and their upcoming shifts at the Laughing Fox, and soon enough everyone (well, Nicky and Andrew) were full. Neil grew puzzled over the bill so Nicky helped him figure out the tip, and Neil didn’t complain about them taking the leftovers home.

Somehow, Andrew wasn’t surprised to find out that Neil lived in a fancy old building that was a historical landmark, something that looked right out of an old movie. Andrew was fine with dropping him off at the front door, but Nicky insisted with helping Neil with the bags, with them being ‘gentlemen’, so they parked the car in the parking lot and up they went. Andrew swore that all Neil did was touch the door, that he didn’t see any keys pulled out and that it swung open (someone needed a lecture on safety and not getting their head caved in during the middle of the night), then mumbled something about ‘come in’ before he stepped inside.

The apartment was spacious for Oakland, had wooden floors and ceilings high enough that Andrew felt his eyes drawn up to them, while Matt jumped up from the couch he was sitting on with some woman who looked a couple of years older than him. “Hey! Look who’s here,” he told a suddenly blank-faced Neil. “It’s… uhm….” He gave a nervous laugh.

“Dan,” she said as she got up to approach the three of them, her attention latched onto Neil for some reason; Andrew wasn’t even sure that she’d registered that he and Nicky had come into the apartment. ‘Dan’ was taller than Andrew and Neil, around 5’9” which meant that she was still about half a foot shorter than Matt, with her dark curly hair cropped short and only a hint of make-up on her face, pastel colors in contrast to her dark skin tone. She was cute, he supposed, and judging from the smile that Matt flashed her, there was something going on between the two of them, but Neil didn’t seem too happy to see her.

Yet she studied Neil with a raptness that was almost creepy, looking him up and down for several seconds. “How are you doing? Is everything all right?” she asked as she stepped forward, only for Neil to take a step back, his hands clenched tight around the bags he was holding. “You’re not… you’re not doing too much, are you?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Neil told her, his voice as blank as his expression. “These are Andrew Dobson and Nicky Hemmick, whom _Matt_ has imposed on enough tonight, so if you don’t mind, we’re going to drop off the things that Matt _forced_ me to get so they can return home. Good night.”

Someone wasn’t happy just then, Andrew was willing to bet, and there definitely was something going on between the three people, judging from the way that Matt took to wincing and Dan’s expression crumbled a little at the figurative wall Neil had just thrown up in front of her. “We’ll be out here,” she said as Neil continued on his way through the apartment, with Andrew and Nicky following after a second.

Nicky mumbled in Spanish beneath his breath, something along the lines of ‘what the hell’, and Andrew found himself agreeing; the idiot definitely had issues.

The idiot also had cats. Andrew found himself staring nonplussed as he stood in the doorway of a corner bedroom barely decorated save for a bed and a small dresser – and a dozen or so cats. Nicky stood beside him with his mouth agape. “Ah, you like cats?” his cousin asked, voice pitched high with surprise.

Neil weaved through the cats with ease, most of them curled up and unbothered by his presence, as he went to the far corner to drop off the bags in his hands. “Yes.”

That was rather obvious, Andrew thought as he gave Nicky a disgusted look, so his cousin tried again as he held out the bags he carried so Neil could grab them as well; for some reason, neither of them were tempted to step into the room. Might be because it was full of cats, and not all of them looked to be your average house cat, considering the ragged fur and torn ears. Considering that a couple were giving rather baleful stares their ways. “Okay, so are they all yours?” Nicky tried again, while Andrew commenced a staring contest with a large grey and black cat with bright yellow eyes.

“No,” Neil said, and now he sounded offended. “I don’t own any of these, why would I?”

“Uhm, maybe because you have a lot of cats in your room?” Nicky offered with a nervous laugh. “If they’re not yours, I think you have a problem.”

“They’re here because they’re welcome, it’s not a problem,” Neil explained. “They’re free to come and go.”

Andrew blinked at that bit of insanity – dammit, he just lost, and he _swore_ the cat looked smug in its victory – and stared at Neil. “So what, you leave the windows open for the ‘poor’ things?” He nodded toward the windows.

“Yes.”

Not only an idiot, but a suicidal idiot, one whom Andrew was wasting time training and running errands on, dammit, since he’d soon be dead. “So are you taunting the criminals to come in and rob you blind then slit your throat or what?”

All Neil did was shake his head. “It won’t happen,” he said with utter conviction and completely ignoring the heavy dose of sarcasm Andrew had put into his words.

“Right,” Andrew tried again, only to have Neil shrug and the grey cat yawn as if Andrew was boring him. “Fine, it’s your life, die however you want to.”

For some reason that seemed to amuse the idiot, since there was another smile as Neil picked up a small grey tabby meowing at his feet, which made Andrew click his tongue and drag Nicky away from the door. Nicky called out a goodbye as Andrew stalked back toward the apartment’s front door, eager to be rid of Neil and his insanity and puzzles for the night, only for Matt to stop them before they could leave.

“So, how was it, hmm? He wasn’t too bad, was he?” the tall freak asked, his expression nervous as he stood there with his hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans with his girlfriend or whatever hovering beside him.

“He’s an idiot,” Andrew snapped. “He shouldn’t be let out in society on his own.”

Next to him, Nicky laughed a little and waved him off. “No, no, he wasn’t that bad!” Nicky cast a quick, disgruntled look at Andrew before smiling up at Matt. “It’s clear he doesn’t go out clothes shopping often so let me know if he needs some more, all right? It was fun.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Andrew muttered.

Dan stepped forward, her brows furrowed and lips pursed as she scowled at Andrew. “If he annoys you so much, then fine, stay away from him.” Beside her, Matt began to shake his head. “He doesn’t need someone like you in his life, anyway.”

“Uhm, Dan, it’s not what you-“

“He’s not an idiot and I’m not going to let you talk about him that way,” Dan continued.

“He is too, an idiot,” Andrew insisted, while beside him Nicky was making placated noises. “He’s clueless and suicidal and has no instincts to-“

“You don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Dan shouted, cutting off Andrew before he could finish. “ _You’re_ the one who is clueless, and I don’t understand how this is going to help him at all so just walk-“

“ _Enough_.”

Everyone froze, even Andrew, to find Neil standing a few feet away, now dressed in all dark grey, in a loose, voluminous hoodie that cast shadows over his face and loose cotton pants. In his arms he held the same small grey tabby cat, who had eerily similar blue eyes to his own. When everyone was quiet and staring at him, he seemed to nod, judging from the way the hood shifted. “You’re bothering the cats with all the shouting.” Then he turned to Dan. “Don’t insult Andrew or Nicky, they’ve been very helpful.” That was all he said before he turned around to go back to his room, Andrew presumed.

Everyone remained standing in the living room for a moment, and then Andrew felt himself able to move again. “Wait a second, dammit.” He went after the idiot to ask what the hell was going on, why Dan had torn into him just then and why she’d stopped just because Neil had said to, who the hell the three of them were, but as soon as he got to the door of Neil’s room… all he found were cats. More cats than there had been a few minutes before, he swore. He glanced around, but there was no sign of the idiot, not even in the open closet, so he could only assume that Neil had gone out the one window and down the fire escape.

What. The. Hell.

Issues. A whole ton of issues. Wymack had exceeded himself in hiring the redheaded bastard, yes he had, Andrew thought to himself as he stalked back to the living room, because Neil had a _lot_ of issues.

Nicky took one look at Andrew’s expression and managed a weak ‘it was nice seeing you’ to Matt before they left the apartment, and wisely didn’t say anything until Andrew had finished his cigarette in the car. Then he gave a weak chuckle. “So, that was an interesting night, wasn’t it?”

Andrew turned his head enough to glare at the moron. “I hate you so much right now.” He could have been at home working on an essay or two for school instead of all this bullshit.

“Ah, come on,” Nicky pleaded. “We got a free dinner out of it!” he pointed out, his arms folded over his chest. “And we learned a little more about your mysterious redhead.” The look Andrew gave him just then made him wince. “Okay, still in denial there, I get it. But wait until you see him wearing those clothes I picked out! Ooh yeah,” he said while grinning with evident satisfaction.

“He doesn’t swing,” Andrew reminded the pest while taking a turn a little on the fast side, eager to just get home at that point.

“Huh, yeah.” Nicky seemed unhappy at that reminder and chewed on a hangnail on his left thumb for a few seconds. “Maybe it’s a case of him not swinging _yet_? Seems like he has a lot going on, back there.”

That probably was a bit of an understatement. “Don’t push any of your shit on him,” Andrew warned his cousin. “I’m serious. I really will stab you.” Nicky knew what he wore beneath his long sleeves, even if he only went for them as a means of last resort.

That sobered up his cousin in an instant. “Yes, Andrew. I wouldn’t do that to someone, but it doesn’t hurt if I let him know he has some options. But politely, politely!” Nicky proclaimed when Andrew continued to give him a cold look. “Hands off and everything.”

Andrew was grateful to get home and away from the pest at last, and only had one mug of hot chocolate with Bee since he did have homework to do. She talked a little about her day, and he merely shook his head when she asked about his and said he’d go into it tomorrow; by then he just wanted to forget about it for a while. Just wanted to not think about Neil and how he became even more of a bigger, more fascinating puzzle with each passing instant.

It was a late night, but Andrew managed to get everything done for his classes the next day. Tired and out of sorts because of everything, he shouldn’t have been surprised when the nightmares cropped up, about being thrown back into his past. Yet it wasn’t the usual night terrors about the men who had abused him, about being held down and told to be good, about the familiar pain and humiliation. At least, not entirely.

It was about Drake, about the last night with Drake.

About the night where Drake took him to the Anthony Chabot Regional Park for a ‘bonding’ weekend, a chance for him and Drake to ‘get to know each other better’. Cass and Richard had been so happy, pleased that Drake was taking his ‘big brother’ duties so seriously, while Andrew knew it was Drake wanting to get him alone for two days so he could do whatever he wanted in that tent. Drake had molested him once before, but it had been hurried, too rushed for the older teen’s liking, and he wanted to take his time without fear of his parents walking in.

Andrew had spent the entire week leading up to their trip praying that something would happen to Drake, that something would prevent his new ‘big brother’ from being able to lay a hand on him, to being just like all of the others in the previous foster homes. He’d finally found something he wanted with the Spears, with _Cass_ , and now Drake was ruining it, was tainting it from the inside. He wanted Drake _gone_. Why couldn’t something good happen to him for once?

Drake had found them a place away from the trails, away from everyone else, and though Andrew supposed it was supposed to be pretty among the trees and everything, he hated it. Hated it because of what Drake did to him in that tent, hated it because he knew it was just a taste of things to come as long as he stayed with the Spears, as long as he clung to Cass. As long as he was ‘AJ’.

Something made him get up in middle of the night, to go outside despite the pain in his body. Back then he thought it was the urge to go to the bathroom, but in the dream… in the dream it didn’t happen like that. In the dream it was a voice, an oddly familiar voice telling him to get up and go outside, which he did, and as he walked out into the night, someone was waiting for him. Someone with a cruel yet kind smile full of sharp, jagged teeth, someone with bone white hair which glowed in the moonlight except for the ends which were a dull, rusty red. Someone who was slight beneath her ratty clothes yet gripped his shoulders hard enough to bruise as she leaned in to give him a gentle kiss on the forehead, her bronze wings rustling behind her with the melodic clink of tiny cymbals. She whispered something to him, something about it being all right, and then she walked away, her wings flaring up behind her with each step and glimmering in the moonlight, so beautiful that Andrew’s breath caught in his throat, before she went into the tent where Drake was still sleeping.

After that there were screams, were terrible, terrible screams, were sounds he never thought possible from a human throat, or for them to go on for so long. He didn’t remember there being so many, or so awful. Yet he stood there through it all, and the beautiful woman came out when things finally grew silent once more. Only now the ends of her hair were a brilliant red and glittered in the moonlight, as did her lips, an equally bright crimson, as did her hands – her fingers looked odd, looked too long and sharp. She once more approached Andrew, her wings rustling and chiming and flaring once more, and pressed another gentle kiss to his forehead before flying away. A sense of peace filled him at that kiss, of warmth, and then the dream ended.

He woke up at that, the feel of those lips burning on his forehead as he jerked his right hand through his hair. What the hell? What the _hell_?! He’d dreamed of that night with Drake a hundred times, but never like that – it had always been the same, had been about how he’d gotten up to go to the bathroom, had gotten lost in the woods and then come back to find out that some mountain lion had attacked his foster brother while he’d been gone. He’d gone into shock at the discovery, and some hikers had found him and what remained of Drake the next morning. The authorities had surmised that the animal had been drawn to the scent of blood from – well, it had been Drake’s fault, Andrew had been taken to the hospital and Cass had a breakdown from everything, Betsy had been assigned to help Andrew cope and things had worked out in the end. He’d lost the home with Cass but had gained Bee, had finally found someplace safe after so long, had never been touched like that again, and a couple years later Nicky had shown up, scared and heartbroken and looking for someone to just accept him as he was.

Andrew had gotten a family after all, after that night in the woods.

It had been such a strange thing, Drake taking him camping and then the mountain lion attack – they never had found the lion, despite numerous days spent hunting for it. There had been talk about a ‘miracle’ over how Andrew had been left untouched by the creature, but considering the circumstances, not many people had wanted to dwell on it, on what Drake had done and why Andrew had been there, why Andrew had wandered away from the tent. Andrew certainly didn’t dwell on it too much, wanting to put that part of his past behind him, the pain and the abuse, and focus on his life with Bee instead.

Why was he dreaming of it now? Why was he dreaming of that mysterious woman? So beautiful, so unworldly? It couldn’t be real, could it? It didn’t make any sense.

Well, neither did having a pedophile mauled by a mountain lion that vanished into thin air afterward….

He threw back the covers and grabbed his cigarettes as he went over to the window, which he cracked open so he could have a smoke even if he normally respected Bee’s request that he not do it in the house. Right then his hands were shaking and his thoughts were so jumbled that he needed something to calm him down, needed to figure things out. That dream had been so real – had been too real. He could feel the press of lips against his head, could smell blood and the scent of eucalyptus trees and dirt, could hear the odd metallic clanging of those beautiful wings.

If he wasn’t going insane, if he hadn’t had some sort of psychotic breakdown, then the question was… why now? Why was he remembering the truth _now_? And if the dream was real, what was she? What was the winged woman who had saved him from Drake? _Why_ had she saved him?

He sat there staring off into the darkness until the cigarette was finished, and then he went back to his bed and pulled out his laptop so he could search for answers.

*******

Death returned to the apartment, to his room in the mortal abode, and set the tabby cat on the floor; he hadn’t meant to take her so far from her home, but he’d needed to get away from everyone, from the noise and – to just get away, and she hadn’t seemed to mind. “Thank you for humoring me.”

/That’s fine, it was interesting. I liked the birds at the one stop, they tasted different,/ she said before she curled up on the bed to sleep.

He’d paused in Manilla for a while, long enough for the cat to hunt, and supposed that the birds’ diet there was different enough to affect their taste. “I’ll take you again another night,” he promised, and then noticed that he had company out on the fire escape.

The wards would prevent Tisiphone from entering the room, and he didn’t know if he trusted her enough yet to grant her free reign, so he stepped outside to join her on the small metal ‘porch’. “How are you? Have you been waiting long?” he asked as he sat in the window, across from where she was perched on the metal railing. Her wings were out that night, the bronze feathers glimmering in the star- and streetlight, and the ends of her hair were bright red.

She smiled at him, her jagged teeth mostly covered by her lips, and shook her head; she had on a dress that night, a tattered thing that reminded him of something from the early twentieth century, faded by time and moonlight. “No, not very long, and the cats have amused me by telling me about their recent hunts.”

“I see.” Death slipped his hands into the sleeves of his shirt as he watched her with care, uncertain about the reason for her visit. “I didn’t see you at the coffee house today.”

“No, I don’t always stop by. So you’re working there now? Janus hired you?” Judging from the way her smile hitched up a little more, she probably had guessed the god’s reaction to Death.

“Yes, though not without any reservation.” Death was quiet for a few seconds and then sighed. “Why are you here?” Best to just cut to the heart of the matter, especially with a Fury.

Tisiphone hummed a little while she played with the frayed belt of her dress, her wings arching out behind her for a moment then settling. “I wanted to see how you were doing, if you were managing all right so far.”

Death considered that for a moment then gave a slight nod. “It’s more confusing than I thought it would be, more difficult, but yes, I’m managing.”

“Good.” Tisiphone’s smile just then appeared genuine. “I hope this works out for you and that you do learn something from the humans.”

“And why is that?” Death asked. “What is so special about them, and Andrew Dobson in particular? Why are you watching him? He has divine blood in him, doesn’t he? Are you watching him for someone?”

Tisiphone bared her teeth in what might be called a grin. “Oh, I’m not watching him for someone else, it’s all for my own sake that I’m doing this,” she told him. “Whichever one of us impregnated his great-grandmother or great-great-grandmother – I get the impression it’s a few generations back, that bit of divinity, I think they’ve long forgotten about sweet Andrew. That seems to be his lot in life, to be overlooked and abandoned.” Something dark flashed across her face as she said those last few words. “Except by you and me, no?” Her fangs came out and her eyes flared red. “Abandoned and forgotten by everyone but Vengeance and Death.” The sounds her wings made just then were discordant and loud, but beautiful all the same.

She perched before him with baleful red eyes and sharp teeth white behind crimson lips, her face a contorted mask of rage and claws digging into the metal railing of the fire escape, her bronze wings singing of bloody vengeance and excruciating pain and endless torture, and Death sat there calmly as he met her gaze, as he thought that she was still beautiful even with the mask torn away and cocked his head to the side to better hear the music of her wings. Once again, he wished so, so much that he’d met her when he’d been Abram.

“I’m grateful that you were there for him,” he confessed, and with a blink the rage was gone. Tisiphone was still once more, her wings quiet and her expression smoothed out, her fangs hidden and claws unclenched from the railing.

“I did what I could, but the curse of being a Fury is that we are called too late, when the pain and rage and hate has become too much,” she said in a quiet voice. “When the only succor is for those things to be turned outward because they are tearing you apart as much as the source of your prayer.”

Death allowed himself only a couple of seconds to reflect back on his last moments as Abram and shuddered at the terrible memories. “It’s enough,” he admitted, his voice rough and power flaring as he struggled to push aside the memories and emotions associated with them. “Believe me, it’s enough.”

Tisiphone studied him for a moment then bowed her head. “Yes.”

They were quiet for what felt to be a couple of minutes, and then Death stirred. “So you’re still watching out for Andrew, even after… even after. I admit that there’s something about him, but isn’t it unusual, for a Fury to be so interested in a mortal after gaining them vengeance?”

Tisiphone didn’t seem to take offense at the question since she smiled and once more toyed with her belt. “You may not see it now, but there’s this… this wealth of rage in him. It’s what drew me to him, why I answered his prayer and not one of my sisters.” Her gaze grew distant for a few seconds. “Yes, there’s something to him, you’ll see,” she promised. “He’ll do, he’ll do wonderfully, especially now that you’re here.” Before Death could ask what she meant by that, she launched herself into the air and flew away.

Death watched her fly into the darkness, the air filled with the singing of her wings, and wondered if she was off to answer another prayer, to bequeath more vengeance. He would know the answer if he concentrated, but he decided to let the matter lie for now – her business was her business.

He supposed that he should go back into his room and do something about all those clothes that Compassion had insisted that he buy, especially since it would be daylight in a couple of hours. Soon enough he would have to report to work at the Laughing Fox, to pretend that he was human for another day.

He could see Andrew again.

He suspected the emotion filling him just then was anxiousness, was something that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Uncertain that long dormant emotions were what he’d wanted when he’d agree to live amongst humans, Death sighed as he slipped back into his room to prepare for the coming day.

*******

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *******  
> Can I just say I'm having fun with Natalie/Renee? I think she's awesome.
> 
> Also, my decision to go with 'Abram' rather than 'Nathaniel' - I believe I mentioned this in a comment on the last chapter? Considering Death's close association with his mother (Courage) rather than his father (Destruction), I'm going with her naming him, not his father. Also, 'Abram' just sounds like a much older name to me than 'Nathaniel'. So there you have it, Neil's original 'human' name is Abram for this fic.
> 
> And don't bash on Dan/Courage, that was just a glimpse of her. In case you haven't picked up on it, she's sorta in Dan-mom mode here when it comes to Death/Neil (some of the feedback of being Courage - she KNOWS she's not Death's mother, but she took over the name and she feels some responsibility for the negligent idiot. Not that he lets her).
> 
> Obviously not all the answers in regards to Nicky, but we're getting there for him. I know the big one people are probably wondering about is... what about ERIK! Don't worry, I has plans for him, yes yes. It'll factor in with that one line about Nicky.
> 
> As always, the comments and kudos are appreciated!  
> *******


	4. Death Talks about the Birds and Bees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, a little more information and another 'familiar' face shows up.
> 
> Also, fair warning, a little bit of homophobia in a scene here (not much and not for very long) and leads to a bit of violence. But nothing that is unfamiliar to people who had read the books.  
> *******

*******

Death tugged at parts of the outfit that Courage and Compassion had picked out from the new clothes that Nicky had forced upon him the night before, feeling uncomfortable in the tight fit of the garments and the fact that the torn jeans were a faded blue and his hooded t-shirt so light a grey as to almost be white.

"I don't think-"

"No, it's fine!" Compassion assured him before he could continue complaining. "You look great! Besides, you'll be wearing the work shirt over it so what does it matter, right?" He held up the black t-shirt bearing the smiling fox logo and waved it at Death as if flashing a flag at a charging bull before handing it over.

Meanwhile, Courage squinted her eyes at him while her fingers twitched. "When's the last time you did something with your hair? They're wearing it a bit neater these days, maybe you should-"

" _No_ ," Death told her as he tugged his hood over his head to prevent her from reaching for his hair. He'd had enough changes already, she wasn't going to touch his hair - not when she put up with the mess of spikes that Compassion sported. Death hadn't seen anything so ridiculous since the Gaelic tribes had prepared for battle almost two millennia ago.

Courage sighed but didn't say anything else, her lips pressed together in a thin line as she folded her arms over her chest, dressed in a pair of shorts and what looked to be an old tunic of Compassion's. After a strained minute or two, Compassion sighed and leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek. "All right, we're off to work." He sounded much too happy about that, considering that ‘work’ meant serving caffeine to mortals.

"I'm going to check out the city, put down a few wards and get the lay of the land," Courage told him. "I'll see you later."

Death frowned at that, still unhappy to find out that Courage planned to join in on the whole 'human' thing; he should have expected it, though, considering how she always had to meddle in his affairs. Just because she'd taken over his mother's aspect didn't mean she was responsible for him, but no matter how much time passed and how hard he argued, she didn't seem to understand that fact.

However, since she seemed determined to ensure that his father didn't interfere with his little 'experiment', he supposed that he could suffer her presence. The last thing he needed was Destruction appearing and harming the humans he was staying amongst.

He left the apartment with Compassion and endured more of his friend's driving, arriving at the Laughing Fox a few hectic minutes later, his ears still ringing from the loud honking of horns. Janus was there when they entered the coffee shop and gave them a sour look while he finished doing something to the front register, then followed them into the back room with the small lockers and the machine that recorded their time (humans seemed to have numerous devices to do that, Death noticed, as if desperate to keep track of every moment allotted to them). "Look, you're making a lot of the staff nervous," the god said as he stared at Death. "So I'm going to have you work in the storeroom until Andrew and Nicky arrive."

Compassion glowered at him while Death merely shrugged, used to how people were put off by his presence. "I don't think that's fair!" his friend objected for him when it was clear that he wouldn’t.

"I'm not hiding him away the whole shift, just until those two morons show up," Janus pointed out. "You can't expect most mortals to deal with someone like him, he's just too...." Janus waved his hands in the air while Death stood there rather curious to see where the god would go with things. "Just too... eh, he's just too 'deathy' for them."

"How the hell did you manage to get worshipped in the first place?" Compassion asked, his expression one of pure incredulousness. "Seriously? I mean, I'm used to being let down by your kind by now, but _really_? ‘ _Deathy’_?"

Janus glared at the Virtue while jabbing his finger toward the door. "I'm not the fucking god of poetry, you smart-mouthed maggot, now shut up and go work the register."

"’Deathy’," Compassion muttered as he turned around to leave. "Where's Calliope when you need her?" he asked to no one in particular as he walked away, busy tying on his apron as he left.

"I am not paid enough to put up with this shit," Janus complained as he rubbed at his forehead.

"Uhm, as owner of the establishment, I believe that you're compensated with the profits, yes? So isn't it your fault that the profits aren't good enough?" Death reminded the god as he tied on his own apron.

The look Janus gave him just then made it clear that he wasn't being as helpful as he'd thought. "Definitely not paid enough for this shit," the god said as he motioned for Death to follow him to the room next door, filled with shelves stocked with various supplies. There Death spent a quiet amount of time counting items and marking down the tallies on a clipboard, content to be alone. All too soon, the door opened for Andrew to lean against the frame, his expression flat yet his eyes bright even if they were surrounded by dark smudges as he studied Death. "Come on, you're helping me with the drinks,” he said after at least a minute spent eyeing Death up and down.

"Uhm." Death held up the clipboard in a silent question what to do with his current task.

"Just leave it, Wymack can find someone else to finish it later." Andrew continued to watch him until he did just that, feeling odd to have such intent scrutiny turned his way when he was usually ignored. He followed the human out front to the espresso machines, noticing how the other employees save Compassion and Nicky flinched at his presence, and nodded when Nicky waved to him in greeting.

"You best not have forgotten anything from last night," Andrew warned as he motioned for Death to take over making the drinks, which prompted a sigh from Death; it seemed the human wasn't in the best of moods for some reason. Uncertain if it was anything that he'd done, Death focused on preparing the beverages while using the knowledge he'd gleaned from the dead to aid him in the job. He was certain that he was succeeding at the task, which was why he was surprised when Andrew clicked his tongue as he grabbed one of the mochas that Death had just made. "Too much syrup, make another one," Andrew ordered as he lifted the cup to his lips and drank it instead of discarding the drink.

"But it said-"

"Another one," Andrew repeated, his thick, pale brows furrowed over his hazel eyes as he stared at Death.

There had been nothing wrong with that drink, Death was certain of it, especially when he made another exactly the same way and Andrew didn't do anything that time. The same thing happened half an hour later with a chocolate cinnamon latte, and then with a double chocolate chip frappuccino, and both times it was clear that Andrew was daring Death to say something while he drank the 'mistakes'. Much like he dared Death to say anything while he constantly raided the display case for sweets to eat.

Death was seriously considering the bastard to be descended from Gluttony at that point. "1,683,512 people die a year from diabetes, you know," he told the mortal. "Right now there's-"

"Ask me if I care," Andrew said, right before he threw the last bite of a brownie in his mouth. "What are you, a walking wiki?"

"What's a 'wiki'?" Death asked, unfamiliar with the term as Andrew referenced it.

Andrew stared at him for a few seconds before stalking away, muttering about being on a break from idiots.

Confused by that, Death went up to the counter, where Compassion and Nicky were talking since there seemed to be a lull in business. "What's a 'wiki'?" he asked his friend.

"Hmm, isn't that one of those funny drinks people like?" Compassion said as he scratched the back of his head. “With the umbrellas?”

Beside him, Nicky's face contorted until he laughed a few seconds later. "No, that's 'tiki', sorta," he explained once he finished. "'Wiki' is short for 'wikipedia' and means an online encyclopedia. People put up information on a bunch of stuff for other people." He smiled at Death, his expression open and friendly. "Why?"

"Andrew called me it," Death said as he tugged on his hood, still uncertain about the whole encounter. "Just because I told him how many people die from diabetes."

Nicky stared at him while Compassion shook his head, his expression disappointed. "Ah, you know stuff like that?" the mortal asked in an uncertain voice.

"He picks up weird things," Compassion said in a rush before Death could speak. "Spends a lot of time reading."

For some reason, Nicky smiled at that. "So does Andrew! I knew you two were perfect for each other." He leaned a little closer to Death, which made him take a step back. "So, how do you like the new clothes? You look really good today, enough so that a certain someone can't stop checking you out."

"Check me out where? I'm still here," Death said, confused by what Nicky was saying, as always.

Nicky's dark brows drew together as he glanced at Compassion, who merely shook his head and chuckled. "All right, I see this is going to take a bit more effort than I'd thought. You do know about the birds and the bees, right, Neil?"

"Yes," Death said in exasperation. "What species in particular?" Quite a few had gone extinct over the last several centuries, thanks to humans.

"Oh. My. _God_." Nicky's dark brown eyes went wide and he appeared ready to cry at the moment, while Compassion gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder as if in sympathy for something. "Plea-" For some reason he looked around the coffee shop quickly before he finished speaking. "Please don't tell me that you don't know anything about sex."

"Of course I know about sex," Death said, confused about the sudden shift in topic when they had been talking about animals and insects. "Why are you asking?" Didn’t most humans find it embarrassing to talk about the subject in public? Because of the whole Victorian thing? Surely that hadn’t been _that_ long ago.

Before Nicky could say anything, Compassion held up his hands. "Just... just _stop_ ," he warned the perplexed human. "Save yourself the grief and stop right there. I've been down that road and it's best not taken without copious amounts of alcohol, trust me."

Nicky turned to the Virtue in what appeared to be frustration. "I just don't get it, I don't. I mean, look at him. _Look_." He gestured toward Death as if he wasn't part of the conversation. "And he doesn't do anything with that? _Really_? That's just not right!"

"I think I'm offended right now," Death declared as he crossed his arms over his chest and glared, still confused by everything but able to figure out that much.

"No, guys who look like you who don't let anyone tap their hot asses don't get to be offended!" Nicky declared while he waved his right forefinger in Death’s face – Death wasn’t used to being snapped at like that, at least by a living person, so he blinked in surprise. "He doesn't even flirt to get free drinks, does he?" he asked Compassion, and gasped when Compassion shook his head and appeared to bite back on a grin. "It's sacrilege, I tell you, _sacrilege_!"

Had the maenads gotten their hooks in Nicky somehow? Death frowned as the mortal took to muttering in Spanish about how unfair it was, wasting an 'ass' like that on an oblivious idiot. Thankfully, a couple of customers came in right about then, so Nicky had to shut up and help Matt with the register while Death retreated back to the espresso machines, done with humans and their nonsense for the time being.

He was busy with making drinks when he felt a faint wash of power, and turned around to find a woman staring at him from the other side of the counter, her blue eyes wide and lips parted, a thin veil of an illusion cast over her features to age them, to add a few threads of grey in her blonde hair and faint wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. He gazed nonplussed at Abigail Wilbore, a witch he hadn't seen in almost a century and hadn’t expected to run into at a coffee shop of all places.

"Abby! You here to visit Coach?" Nicky asked, a wide grin on his face as he leaned on the counter toward the witch. "He's back in the office."

"I - yes, I came by to drop off some things for him," she said as she held up the large, bright blue bag draped over her shoulder. "How's Betsy doing? I haven't had a chance to talk to her lately." While she talked, she kept darting glances Death's and Compassion's way.

"She's good, she keeps saying that she needs to have the two of you over for dinner one night." Nicky smiled as he stood up. "You crazy kids and your wild parties."

'Abby's' smile smoothed out to into something less nervous as she reached out to tousle Nicky's hair, which made him protest about not ruining his beautiful looks. "I don't want to hear it from you, not when you text me all the time for hangover cures."

"Well, those smoothies of yours work wonders," Nicky mumbled. “For some reason, your recipes always work so much better than anything I find out on the internet or in the stores.”

Death stilled when he heard that – was Nicky using some of Abigail’s potions? If she was giving them to him and he was able to make them work, then it seemed that he had witch blood in him, which explained why he was able to tolerate Death’s presence so well. Judging from the way that Abigail was staring in Death’s direction, she had noticed Nicky’s ‘slip’ and pursed her lips before she ordered a cup of chamomile tea.

Death prepared the tea for her and made a point of carrying it to the other end of the counter, where she’d gone to wait for it after promising to talk to Nicky later. She gave him a smile as he set the tea on the counter. “Oh, are you new? I remember David mentioning that he hired a couple of people the other day.”

“Yes, my name is Neil,” he told her while Compassion took to distracting Nicky.

“I’m Abby,” the witch said as she continued to smile, the expression a little less strained since it was obvious that Death was going out of his way to be ‘human’ and play along. “That’s quite an accent, have you spent some time in Europe?”

“Yes, I have.” Death cocked his head to the side, curious to see where the witch would take things.

“Oh, do you know French? It’s been so long since I spoke it, I used to be so good back in college.” Abigail cleared her throat before she began speaking in rather archaic French. “ _I’m going to kill David, he didn’t tell me **who** exactly he had hired, just that it was two Named Ones_.”

It wouldn’t be a first time that a witch had killed a god, yet Death shook his head. “ _It’s not his time, but good luck trying_ ,” he said in the same language, his accent current since he had more cause to use it than Abigail.

Abigail sighed as she picked up her tea. “ _I meant… never mind, I never know when you’re being too literal or a smart ass.”_ She eyed him for a few seconds while he gave her a blank look in return then shook her head _. “Why are you here? There isn’t going to be another earthquake, is there?”_

Ah, that’s right, it had been in San Francisco when he’d seen her last. “ _No, I’m not here for work_.” Then he looked around him and sighed. “ _Not my usual work, I mean. I’m trying to live like a human for a little while – Tisiphone and Compassion seem to think it will be good for me_.” Though he was beginning to have his doubts. Even _more_ doubts.

“ _You’re – oh_.” Abigail covered her mouth with her left hand, but Death could still see the smile. “ _Oh, I see. Yes, I think they’re right_.” She lowered her hand and smiled at him, the expression now genuine. “ _It will be very good for you_.”

“ _Really_ ,” he said as he gave her a blank look.

“ _Yes, really_.” She shook her head as her smile faded. “ _You deal with humans all the time, it will benefit you to understand how they live to better comprehend what they’re leaving behind_.”

He thought about that for a moment before nodding. “ _So Nicky… is he one of your own_?” When her expression smoothed out, he cocked his head to the side. “ _I only ask because he tolerates me rather well_.” While he spoke, Andrew returned from wherever he had gone, smelling of cigarette smoke and his expression turning flat when he caught sight of Death for some reason.

“ _Ah, all right_.” Abigail nodded once as if she’d thought about something. “ _It’s from his mother’s side, though she gave up the craft. I’ve been debating if I should tell him, he has a strong gift but… from what I can tell, he was raised ignorant of it. Sometimes it’s not the best, to introduce someone like him into our world_.”

Death understood what she was trying to say. “ _If it helps, he’s tolerating me very well_.”

Abigail smiled at that as if pleased. “ _It does. I’ll see how he does during your stay and make up my mind from there_.”

"Slacking off on the job already?" Andrew said as he flipped up part of the counter so he could come behind it, his expression mostly blank except for some tightness to his jaw. "And your French sounds awful,” he told Abigail.

The witch laughed a little as she stepped back with her tea. "It's been a while since I used it, it was nice of Neil to humor an old lady." Her lips twitched a little at the 'old' comment, since she was much younger than Death.

He nodded to her before turning to Andrew, who gave him a cold look for a reason. "Come on, there's drinks waiting to be made," the human told him, his voice just as cold.

"All right." Death followed him back to the machines and resumed working, while Andrew watched him intently, almost enough to make him nervous. It wasn’t as if he was doing something wrong, his actions were correct so was there some other thing that he failed to do? Some human thing that he’d missed or failed to understand?

"Do you know her?" Andrew asked after a few puzzling minutes.

"Excuse me?" Death frowned as he finished a shot of espresso, afraid that Andrew was asking him about Abigail and uncertain how he could get around speaking the truth.

"Do you know Abby? Abby Winfield?" Andrew asked, speaking slowly as if he thought that Death didn't comprehend what he was saying. "You looked rather friendly with her back there. I haven't seen you talk to any customers like that."

"Ah." Well, phrased like that, Death could hedge things a little. "No, I've never met her before." At least, he'd never met 'Abby Winfield' before, this latest incarnation of Abigail's. "But she was polite," he declared as he finished the drink. "She doesn't steal things and claim it's my fault."

"Oh, look, you just messed up again," Andrew said as he reached over to pump some chocolate syrup into the Americano and then slurped it in front of Death. "Make another."

Death gritted his teeth as he grabbed another cup and reminded himself that he couldn’t use his power against the coffee shop’s employees. "Have you seen the effects of severe diabetes? The blindness? Amputation? Strokes?”

"Lovely," Andrew drawled after he finished another dose of sugary caffeine. "The disease runs in your family, does it?"

"No," Death confessed, a bit confused by the question – Named Ones were unaffected by any diseases. "Does it run in yours?" Perhaps the answer would help him narrow down Andrew’s inhuman blood.

"Not according to Nicky," Andrew answered, which Death found interesting - did the mortal not know for himself? "Guess it'll be something else that kills me, maybe lung cancer."

All it would take was a bit of concentration and Death would know, but he tried to avoid doing that once he knew a mortal. "You do seem to have _many_ bad habits." Hmm, perhaps he should look into Andrew being a descendant of Hermes or Laverna.

"I don't want to hear that from an idiot who leaves his front door unlocked and his windows open, and goes climbing down fire escapes at night," Andrew stated as he leaned against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest and fingers sliding beneath the edges of his black sleeves. "Wanna bet which of us will live longer?"

"I'm reasonably certain it won't be you," Death swore as he grabbed the cold espresso for a mocha frappuccino.

"And why is that?" Andrew scoffed. "Clean living despite your innate stupidity?"

"You could say... good genes." Despite his father and everything, Death's lips quirked just then; he didn't know why it was so easy to talk to this particular human the longer he was around him, even if Andrew had such annoying habits.

"Genes won't save you from having your head caved in," Andrew said as he narrowed his eyes. "Keep leaving those windows open and you'll find out."

"Oh, you'd be surprised." Death gave a slight smile as he started the blender, which seemed to annoy Andrew for some reason. He'd survived a lot of things over the centuries after all, various traps set by Deception and run-ins with his father being amongst the worst of it.

"I think I'm tempted to try it out and see just how well you do recover." Andrew eyed him up and down again then snorted. "It's clear you're insane, you've got all the cats-"

"What do cats have to do with it?" Death asked, perplexed by that part. Cats weren’t really associated with any of the gods of madness, with Dionysus or Mania or even Dementia, so why drag the creatures into things?

"And that you have a death wish. I'd be doing you and everyone else a favor by putting you out of your misery."

"But I'm not miserable," Death argued as he paused in making the drink, even more baffled than before – why did humans change topics so much when they talked? And how could _he_ have a death wish? "I mean, I'm not pleased to be sharing an abode with- with Matt and Dan because they're becoming very annoying," he had to remember their 'human' names, "Matt's driving skills leave a lot to be desired, and the clothes that Nicky picked out for me aren't really my type." He paused to pick at his hood and sighed. "I also think you're a terrible thief, but then your ki- ah, people don't seem to care much about that, do they?" He glanced over at Andrew and found the young man staring at him with another too-blank expression. "But no, I'm not miserable."

Andrew was quiet for several seconds, his eyes hooded and almost swallowed up by the dark circles surrounding them. "Don't believe much in a filter, do you?"

Death cocked his head to the side as he considered the question. "A filter for what?"

"Just how often were you dropped on your head as a child?"

"I believe my father had very little to do with me when I was an infant," Death informed Andrew, no longer in much of a mood to talk. "And we have drinks to make."

For some reason Andrew just stood there for a couple of seconds while Death resumed making orders, doing his best to keep busy. When Andrew took to leaning against the counter near him, those hazel eyes were once more fixed upon him. "You ever get sent to therapy for your many issues?"

"Excuse me?" Death frowned at the question - what issues? "Therapy? No, why would I?" How would he?

"Figures," Andrew muttered as he toyed with the sleeves of his shirt - Death wondered if the human playing with them had anything to do with the bits of metal strapped to his forearms beneath the black cloth. "Denial much?"

"Denial about what?" Why was it that he barely understood less than half of what Andrew talked to him about?

"I don't have the time to even start, and you're making the customers wait so get to work," Andrew said as he went to fetch a cookie.

But the human had been the one to talk to _him_ , not to mention that Andrew didn’t do anything but stand around, steal drinks and eat while everyone else worked.

Death wondered if Tisiphone was watching the human to recommend him as a new candidate for Sloth, for which he seemed perfect, and sighed as he got back to his ‘job’. So far, there was little good to say about being mortal.

*******

"So, not that you've thanked me as of yet, but 'you're welcome'," Nicky said, his expression smug as he sidled up to Andrew.

"Why, are you finally moving out?" Andrew asked the pest.

Nicky sighed as he shook his head, his hands busy retying his apron around his waist. "No, I meant about Neil's new clothes. He looks really good in them, doesn't he?" The smugness went up a notch as Nicky glanced over to where Neil was huddled next to Matt as the jock seemed to be trying to get the idiot to try a cake-pop during a lull in customers without much success; apparently his argument of 'but it's on a stick!' didn't meet Neil's criteria of acceptable food. Andrew was beginning to doubt if there was _anything_ that met Neil's criteria of acceptable food, considering that the only thing he'd seen pass the idiot's lips in the last few days had been water, tea and one slice of pizza.

Issues with food aside - one of many issues, apparently - Neil did 'look good' in the new outfit, the skinny jeans and shirt emphasizing his lean build and long legs, the paler colors contrasting with the brightness of his hair and iciness of his eyes. Andrew didn't understand how so many people could overlook him and smile at Matt instead when the jock was little better than average, but he got the impression that Neil preferred it that way.

"Hmm, I see you're stunned speechless," Nicky said. "I really do good work, don't I?"

"Don't be stupid," Andrew snapped as he forced his attention away from the redhead. "And shouldn't you be working?"

"Look who's talking," Nicky shot back and then stiffened when Andrew fingered the edges of his armbands. "Hey, are you all right? You seem a bit off today," he asked, his expression changing into concern as he put a little space between them.

Normally Andrew would ignore his cousin, but he recognized that look and how Nicky would keep hounding him until he got an answer that satisfied his innate need to mother those he cared about for some reason. "I didn't get much sleep last night." Nicky had been around long enough to know to leave things at that, to not ask what had kept him from being able to sleep.

"Okay," Nicky said, the concern intensifying but as expected, he didn't pry any further. "Let me know if there's anything I can do." Then he left to go over to Matt and Neil, aware of how Andrew didn't like to talk much when he was having a bad day. At least, he didn't like talking much unless he was working with an oblivious idiot, it seemed.

He hadn't gotten much sleep after the - the what, the nightmare? The flashback? What _had_ it been, that dream? Whatever it was, it had driven Andrew on to find out about the mysterious, unnatural woman with wings, to trawl through the internet in search of an answer. 'Angel' seemed much too pat, though he wasn't certain that he held to the belief that those 'heavenly' creatures were all light and flowing gowns and halos and harps. Some of the sites he'd visited had felt the same, had depicted them as less than benevolent beings, but even their descriptions didn't quite fit the metallic-winged creature from the dream with the sharp fangs and tattered clothes yet also soft lips and gentle voice.

There were harpies, but that didn't match up either, since despite the wings, fangs and what he thought had been claws, the being had appeared mostly human. She hadn't possessed the body of a bird, just the wings (sort of, if a bird could be made of metal) and she hadn't been cruel or harsh to Andrew. What she'd been to _Drake_ was another matter entirely, but she'd been kind to Andrew, from what he could remember.

So if she wasn't an angel or a harpy, a shapeshifter or demon, could she be a fury? They were depicted as women with wings in the images he'd found, but they were also described as having dogs' heads or snakes for hair, as being inhuman in some aspect, horrible crones to look upon. That didn't quite fit the woman from his dream, but she had dealt with Drake, had saved Andrew from his suffering. Had saved him when everyone else had turned their back on him, had just passed him on to one abuser after another, had ignored all the signs, the bruises and the few pleas for help he’d managed to choke out before he'd learned better, learned that it didn't matter. Had heard his prayers despite the fact that he'd long given up on them ever being answered.

He wasn’t sure what he wanted to think about that, on something answering his prayers and saving him, even if it was some sort of supernatural creature. It had been hard, the last few years, but he’d managed to put together some semblance of life for himself, to claw back the anger and fear and distrust and pretend to be normal. Bee had helped a lot, had taught him that not all people were bastards who only wanted to use him or hurt him, who would turn a blind eye to his pain, but in the end even she had told him that he had to help himself, that there was only so much she could do for him.

It was a joke to think that he was all right, that he was fine, but he had Bee and Nicky, he had his classes and his job here. He had a car he could get in and drive around for hours on his days off or the truly horrible nights, he had his own room with a door that locked and the knives on his arms to keep him safe if anyone tried to touch him against his will again, to hold him down.

Perhaps the creature in his dream was just some figment of his imagination, was something he’d read about in one of his books, an insignificant enough side character that he wasn’t remembering clearly enough yet. Or an image he’d walked past at some point in his life, had caught a flash of in a movie and twisted into his subconscious somehow. Bee would tell him that even with an eidetic memory that the mind could still play tricks on him, especially when it came to trauma. Perhaps this was his mind’s way of saying that it recognized that awful night in the mountains as being the start of the turning point in his life, as what had allowed things to get better for him even if the beginning was awful.

It didn’t make sense, though, because he didn’t feel any guilt over wishing for Drake’s death. Or why his mind was changing things on him _now_. He’d lived with a psychiatrist long enough to know that there usually was a trigger for this type of shit, so… what was it? What had triggered the change in the dream?

He was pulled from his musings by Nicky calling out, his cousin’s voice loud and excited, and saw the pest leaning over the counter to hug Jerry, one of Nicky’s friend’s from college. The young man with the purple-tipped dark brown hair set his rainbow flag-covered backpack on the counter and laughed at whatever Nicky had said, then smiled with interest as Nicky introduced him to Matt; Andrew noticed how Neil had taken to slinking away, right hand busy tugging his hood over his face.

“Oh wow, it’s- look, I don’t usually do this and I’m not hitting on you, but wow, your _eyes_ ,” Jerry gushed to Matt. “They’re just… I want to stay here all day and stare into them and smile.”

Nicky rolled his own eyes even as he grinned. “Wait until I tell Carl about that, you two-timer.”

Jerry blanched a little at what Andrew assumed was a jest, considering Nicky’s abysmal track record of being faithful. “ _No_ , no, I didn’t mean it like-“

“It’s okay, I know you meant it as a compliment,” Matt said as he reached over to pat Jerry on the arm, which made the young man calm down in an instant. “And thanks, I appreciate it, but I think you’ve got better things to do than gape at me all day.” He seemed amused by everything, while Neil was shaking his covered head as he sidled closer to Andrew. “Now, what do you want to drink?”

“So nice,” Jerry murmured, a placid smile spreading across his face as he continued to gaze up at Matt. However, before he could order, one of the two guys waiting in line behind him made a disgusted noise.

“Yeah, hurry up and order, fag.”

Andrew, who had been content to just lounge around while the stupidity took place, straightened up when he heard that, while Nicky’s bemusement over his friend’s apparent crush was wiped away. “What did you say?” Nicky asked as his hands settled on his hip, the grin on his face just then a pure challenge.

“I told the fag to hurry up and order,” the guy repeated as he stared down Nicky, while Jerry hunched closer to the counter and Matt stepped toward to the kid as if prepared to shield him.

“Yeah, I thought so.” Nicky sneered as he leaned against the counter with his hands braced on it. “Look, we’re all out of coffee for inbred assholes, so I think you need to find another shop. That or just go into the bathroom and drink out of the toilet, I think that’s more to your level of refinement.”

Dammit, Nicky just _had_ to _push_ , didn’t he? Andrew stepped forward while his cousin taunted the two men, eyes focused on them and the way their faces flushed at the insults, at the way their bodies – taller than him of course, a little more muscle mass but no real definition – shifted, their hands clenched into fists. When he saw them step forward toward Nicky, he let the anger that he struggled so much to keep tamped down all the time rush to the fore and reveled in it a little.

“Listen, you smart-mouthed bastard,” the one who’d spoke before said as he reached for Nicky, while the other one went for Jerry. Matt shouted at that one, right as Andrew grabbed onto the first asshole’s right wrist with his left hand and slammed it onto the counter before he could touch Nicky. He thought he heard Adam, who had been working the seating area, call out something then go running for Wymack, but all he cared about just then was dealing with the assholes.

“You don’t touch him,” he ground out as he grabbed the surprised asshole by the back of his head then slammed his face into the counter; when the other asshole, whom Matt had shoved away from Jerry, rushed over to help his friend, Andrew punched him hard on the nose, a slight smile spreading across his face at the feel of his fist impacting flesh, and found himself scrambling to grab something to smash onto them, to slash across their flesh. Oh, wait, there were his knives-

And then there was a touch, a very light touch, on his right shoulder and the rage just… just _settled_. Just seemed to sink back into his very bones, to fade away, to sleep, and the two assholes slumped to the floor, their faces pale beneath the fresh blood and eyes blown wide. They trembled and gasped for air, limbs drawn in and hair standing on end, the fight completely gone from them while Neil stood next to Andrew.

“What the _fuck_ is going on out here?” Wymack shouted as he ran out from the office, his expression furious while a nervous Adam hovered behind him, the one or two customers still in the shop gawking at the scene by the counter. For some reason Wymack seemed to be looking at Matt and Neil more than Andrew, which was odd since Wymack usually blamed Andrew for things first if he was around, him being the ‘demon midget’ and all. “Well?”

“Ah, well, these two haters came in and were about to get all handsy,” Nicky said in a nervous rush as he motioned to the other side of the counter. “Andrew stepped in to keep them from beating me and poor Jerry up.” His friend started nodding in agreement even as he clung to Matt’s arm.

“Matt and Andrew stopped them,” Jerry hurried to say.

Some of Wymack’s anger seemed to fade away, until he got a better look at the two assholes, who were still huddled on the floor by the counter; Andrew hadn’t hit them _that_ hard, and was just waiting for them to speak up and start threatening about sore necks and lawsuits and all that shit. Just what he needed – Bee was going to make him see Dr. Shahin more than once a week and go to the damn anger management sessions. _Dammit_.

Yet all that happened was that Wymack gave Neil a searching look until the idiot managed a slight shrug. Andrew was left with the feeling that he’d missed something, especially when Wymack sighed and scrubbed his right hand over his face. “Boyd, pick up those two and get them the hell out of here.”

“But-“

“Now, Boyd,” Wymack repeated, which made the jock sigh and give Jerry a reassuring pat on the shoulder before he went over to where the counter flipped open and stepped out front. While Matt reached down and hauled the almost comatose assholes onto their feet, Wymack was once more studying Andrew and Neil. “You know my thoughts on beating up customers, Dobson.”

“And you know my thoughts on assholes who can’t keep their hands to themselves when it comes to my family,” Andrew shot back. “They started it, I just finished it.” Except… had he? Why had they collapsed like that?

And why was Wymack looking at Neil all of a sudden, his expression guarded. “Next time try talking it out, why don’t you?”

Andrew scoffed at that. “What fantasy world do you live in? I don’t ‘talk out’ someone trying to punch my cousin.”

“Listen, you little-“

“It’s _finished_ ,” Neil said, his voice containing… Andrew wasn’t certain what was so odd about it, just that it cut off Wymack and made Jerry shiver, made Nicky frown and even Andrew pay attention. “The fight is over, Nicky and the young man are safe so why are you arguing about this?” Neil cocked his head to the side, his face still hidden by the hood of his shirt. “The matter is ended.”

Wymack didn’t seem happy about that. “Is that your call on this?”

Neil went still at the question. “ _Yes_.”

Wymack continued to stare at him for a few more seconds, a strange tension coming over his face – hell, over the damn coffee shop, and then he let out a sudden breath. “Fine,” he snapped, and the tension vanished. “Dobson, clean up whatever mess there is from the damn fight. Hemmick, you can socialize on your own damn time, either your friend orders or he leaves. Josten, you’re back in the stock room for the rest of your shift.”

“Hey, wait, why is he being punished?” Nicky asked, his expression defiant until Wymack turned toward him with an impressive glower which made it clear that he wasn’t in the mood for questions. “Uhm, well, he didn’t do anything.”

“I don’t see your friend ordering,” was all Wymack said, while Jerry took to tugging at Nicky’s sleeve and asking what was going on. While Nicky was distracted, Neil slipped out from behind the counter and made his way to the back of the shop without saying a word, even to Andrew.

What the hell? Andrew frowned at that, wondering what the idiot had done to piss off Wymack so much, while Nicky rang up a vanilla soy latte for Jerry. He went to make that while Nicky wiped down the counter, and had just finished the drink when Matt returned from kicking out the assholes.

“Ah, where’s Neil?”

“Coach’s being a dick and made him go back in the store room for some reason.” Nicky pouted as he took the latte from Andrew so he could hand it over to Jerry. “I don’t know what got into him, it’s not Neil’s fault that those guys were homophobic assholes and everything.”

“Yeah.” Matt frowned as he rubbed his hands together as if to rid himself of an uncomfortable feeling. “Maybe the fight rattled him and Wymack figured he could benefit from being somewhere quiet and alone.” Still, he didn’t seem happy about something and took to staring off at nothing when he wasn’t waiting on customers.

The rest of the shift went by quickly, went by without incident. Andrew was back to making drinks, and by that point had eaten enough purloined food that he was full, had gotten enough caffeine in him that he no longer felt sleepy – that and a sudden bout of rage did wonders for waking him up. Even if said rage had suddenly disappeared before he could break too many bones.

Besides, it wasn’t the same to sneak drinks without Neil staring at him with those bright blue eyes wide with indignation, clearly offended over having his burgeoning skill as a barista slandered.

When it came near the time for Javier, Erika and Sonja to come in for the closing shift, Andrew heard his cousin ask Matt about what phone to get Neil. “Is he an Apple or an Android type of guy? Old school or has to have the latest tech?”

Matt laughed for some reason. “He’s… it’s not so much old school as apathetic about stuff like that,” Matt explained while he shook his head. “Doesn’t see the point to it when it’s just going to change in a short while and something new is going to come out, so he doesn’t bother trying to keep up.”

Nicky did one of his exaggerated gasps upon hearing that while pulling his own phone out of his back pocket to fondle it as if it was something precious. “But that’s the _fun_ of it! How can he not get it?”

“He just doesn’t think it’s that important.”

It was obvious by then that Neil didn’t _get_ a lot of things, Andrew thought to himself. Still, Matt continued to shake his head as he continued to explain his friend to Nicky. “He has… different priorities, I guess you can say.” He’d lost his usual smile during the discussion, making it clear that he didn’t want to go into what those ‘priorities’ were – and Nicky wasn’t picking up on that fact.

“What’s more important than buying fun stuff and looking hot and finding someone, hmm?” Nicky asked the jock. “You’re only young once, enjoy it while it lasts.”

For some reason, Matt seemed oddly sad for a moment, and then he managed a weak grin. “Yeah, exactly. Neil’s different, all right? He takes some things really serious and has a hard time letting go.” The jock sighed as he rubbed at the back of his head. “I’m hoping he learns a few new things while we’re staying here.”

Like what? How to make coffee? Andrew didn’t understand what Matt thought working at the Laughing Fox would provide in the way as a learning experience, but the world was filled with morons. He was beginning to understand why Neil was annoyed at living with the man, though.

He also had to wonder just what had happened to the redhead to make him view things with such a sense of impermanence, to give up on trying to connect with the world. Andrew had known a few people like that back when he’d been in the foster care system, and they’d been the ones with the empty eyes and the bruises they hadn’t bothered to hide, the ones who bounced around homes even more than he had, who were considered ‘unadoptable’ because of all their issues.

 _All their issues_.

Neil had said that his father hadn’t had much to do with him when he’d been ‘little’. What had the man done to him when he _hadn’t_ been ‘little’? Why had Dan been so protective of Neil last night?

Dammit, Andrew already had one mystery on his hands, had to figure out the strange woman in his dream and why it had changed all of a sudden, he didn’t need the conundrum of Neil Josten as well. Didn’t need to be distracted by big blue eyes and long legs clad in denim and slender fingers sliding through tousled curls. To a quiet voice with an odd, untraceable accent that for some reason didn’t get on his nerves, even when it dripped with sarcasm or derision. Even when he was having a bad day.

Not that he was paying attention to any of that, to what Neil did or how he looked or sounded like or anything. Not that it mattered.

As soon as the shift ended, Andrew slipped from behind the counter so he could tell a certain idiot that he could stop counting coffee filters and teabags, only to find the store room empty. The clipboard was set on a pile of boxed paper cups with a pen resting on top of it, and the door had been closed. Andrew hadn’t seen Neil sneak out of the room at all (not that he’d been watching the entire time or anything), and there was no way to go out the back door without setting off the alarm (Wymack grew annoyed with people going out that way for smoke breaks). So where was the idiot?

Andrew didn’t find Neil in the back room or the bathroom, and Wymack’s office was locked since he’d left for the night. When Andrew returned to the front of the coffee shop, Neil wasn’t up there, either, yet Matt didn’t seem surprised that his roommate had literally vanished in thin air. “He’ll show up later,” Matt said, his expression weary rather than concerned. “Sometimes he just needs to get away and clear his head.”

Nicky paused in removing his apron as a guilty expression came over his face. “Was the fight earlier really too much for him?”

“It… might have been,” Matt said as they headed to the back room to clock out; Andrew caught that slight hesitation and pondered it. Neil hadn’t appeared freaked out to Andrew at the time, especially with the way he’d stood up to Wymack. Something didn’t seem right, so what was Matt hiding?

Whatever it was, it would have to wait a bit longer – it was time to go home and Andrew had the next day off since it his therapy session with Dr. Shahin in the afternoon. Perhaps she could help him with at least one of the mysteries that had taken over his life, and a bit of distance would make him realize that Neil was just a fucked up idiot who didn’t deserve his interest. That there wasn’t anything special about him, other than he might have even more problems than Andrew and so should be avoided at all costs.

Yes, a bit of distance would be good.

But how the hell had he gotten out of the coffee shop?

*******

Death slipped _between_ , desperate for the peace he would find there, for the solitude; he needed to be away from the humans, from their noise and the press of mortality so he could think. There wasn’t enough space between him and the pathetic flickering of their souls in the store room so he fled to the vast nothingness, to the comforting darkness where he could float on and on with his arms wrapped around his waist as he let his mind wander.

He’d toyed with the identity of Andrew’s divine ancestor ever since realizing that the human had to have some inhuman blood in him to enable him to tolerate Death’s presence, but it had been more of an amusing game than anything. Death knew that Andrew was more than mortal, that the young man could withstand his presence (to a point) and that was all that mattered – there was very little Death need to fear from any Named One or god, after all. He didn’t go out of his way to make enemies because that was foolishness, was a senseless thing to do in handing powerful beings a reason to want to tear him down… but in the end? He was _Death_. He was _everyone’s_ ending. The Fates’ could make his existence miserable, the Furies could hound his every step and Destruction could destroy everything he cherished, but _he_ would be their end. That was what he was, that was what he _did_.

There were rules… were rules and Rules, but he was still Death. Everyone came to him in the end, no matter how powerful or pious or popular.

His predecessors hadn’t been defeated by anything other than themselves, by their inability to carry on – by their own desires for an ending. That wasn’t him, though, that wasn’t a part of him at this point; he would continue on, would keep moving forward as his mother had told him to do, would defy his father to the last and ensure that Destruction and Deception didn’t win. What did he care if almost everyone was afraid of him? If they shied away from him and castigated him for doing what he was supposed to do? Who were they to him?

He was _Death_. He was their ending, and that couldn’t be denied. Nothing new could be begun unless there was to be an end, after all. They never seemed to remember that, to think of his importance.

He respected a few of the Named Ones for various reasons, and only feared a couple for personal ones. Gods he acknowledged and had little issues with, though many had grown increasingly bitter over the years as their followers dwindled and their powers weakened, as their status decreased and he came to claim them one by one. It wasn’t his fault that their ‘immortality’ was such a capricious thing, based on humanity as it was, while Death merely _existed_ , but he was used to being hated.

When Andrew had lashed out at the two men back in the coffee shop, Death had sensed inhuman power, had sensed a bit of divinity and had reached out to still it, to put it to sleep, in a sense, before it got out of control and Andrew ended the lives of the men; he had sensed that strong possibility, if that power was left unchecked. As soon as he touched the human, he had identified the source of the power, the god who was responsible for Andrew’s divine blood.

Apollo. God of healing, of prophecy and truth, among other things. God of _protection_.

It appeared that the last aspect was particularly strong in Andrew, was prominent in his blood and bones. Was something that drove him on to use his fists to defend what was considered under his protection, almost to the point of mania. Death was shocked at how powerful the aspect was in the human, considering that the divine blood had to be a couple of generations back at least. Yet it was undeniable, that spark of divinity.

Death frowned as he concentrated on finding someone, on searching the world for someone who might have an answer or two; it was within his ability, to find whomever he wanted. All life came to him eventually, all beings were an ending waiting to be culled, so it just took a little effort on his part to find that appropriate ‘ending’. Once he found it, he slipped from the _between_ and back into the world.

Tisiphone was dressed in a colorful skirt which fell to her feet and a loose sweater the color of the Aegean Sea which slipped from her sharp left shoulder, her expression at first surprised and then pleased to see him. Beside her on the balcony of some skyscraper overlooking New York City was Aglaia, a displeased frown on her face as she set aside what looked to be a glass of champagne, her long blonde hair sliding back over her shoulder to fall down her back, the strands glittering in the lights of the various buildings behind her as if spun gold and her blue eyes glowing.

“If it’s my time to go, I’m going to be pissed as hell,” the Grace declared. “I’ve always sworn that I’d go down fighting or fucking.”

Death paused to think about that while Tisiphone chided her companion. “You’re… hmm, yes,” was all he said, which made Aglaia smile.

“What, you’re not going to say anything more than that?”

“No,” he told her, unwilling to divulge anything else – normally he wouldn’t even give more than that away, but the Grace had always amused him with the way she spoke her mind and treated him better than many other Named Ones. She didn’t seem to fear him or try to curry any favor, she called him an idiot at times and others chided him about his clothes or working too hard. All in all, he preferred her attitude to Courage’s, since she knew when to back off. Also, she didn’t hold against him that he’d claimed ‘her’ Envy all those centuries ago, the defiant, stubborn and flawed man whom she’d seemed to love, who’d allowed his nature to consume him to the point that Deception had easily ensnared him in an attempted trap for Death, and Death had no choice but to end the Vice’s suffering.

Aglaia huffed a little as she picked up the glass of champagne. “I guess that’s fair.” She had a sip while she glanced at Tisiphone, who smiled back at her from her perch on the ledge of the balcony. “I assume you’re not here to visit me?” the Grace asked once she was done with her drink.

“No,” Death repeated before he turned his attention on the Fury. “Andrew is one of Apollo’s.” While he was curious as to why a Fury was hanging out with a Grace, he was there for a reason.

Tisiphone smiled at him, her teeth hidden behind her lips. “Yes, he is. I realized that the night I answered his prayer.”

“And is that why you’re watching him?” Death asked; she said it wasn’t on the behalf of another Named One, so it couldn’t be for Apollo – not that the Furies had much respect for the god. “Because he’s Apollo’s?”

The Fury hummed a little. “Not why you’re thinking, I’m willing to bet,” she told him. “Not because of his _blood_ , but because of his aspect.” At Death’s confused look, she shook her head, which caused the bright red ends of her hair to flash in the night’s darkness. “Just keep watching him,” she said. “Stay near him and you’ll see. You’ll see even more,” she corrected with a knowing smile.

He stood there for a moment while she continued to smile and Aglaia drank. “What are you planning for him?” Andrew was just a mortal, one among billions, but for some reason… for some reason it mattered.

Something in his voice wiped the smile from Tisiphone’s pale lips. “Nothing that he won’t agree to,” she promised.

He considered that and what he knew about the Fury, and then nodded. “I will hold you to that.” For a few seconds he gathered his power around him, allowed it to fill the balcony until cracks appeared in the concrete and Aglaia cursed out loud, the glass of champagne falling from her hand while Tisiphone’s wings burst from her back, yet the Fury merely bowed her head before him. “Nothing that he won’t agree to,” Death repeated. “Or I’ll be upset.”

“Of course,” Tisiphone said in a ragged voice, well aware what he could do when upset – and when she skirted the rules. When _he_ skirted the rules.

It was never wise to antagonize a Fury, but it was downright foolish to displease Death. Foolish and suicidal.

Having made his point, Death slipped from the balcony to another part of the world, to a multi-car accident in Samut Prakan, willing to lose himself in his work for a short time.

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *******  
> There you go. Some more background on Andrew and Nicky, and maybe someone you've been waiting to see.
> 
> Also, made up the figure on diabetes (it's based on reality, but not that exact a figure).
> 
> As always, thanks for the comments and kudos!
> 
> *******


	5. Death Goes Old School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, another chapter! Another familiar face! More and more will be appearing now, yes indeed.
> 
> I may have had fun with this chapter. Just a little.
> 
> *******

*******

Death ran into Destiny in Caracas, at a crowded hospital filled with shouting people and flickering lights and the oppressive air of futility and hopelessness, when he came for a middle-aged woman who had greeted him with relief. There had been a sense of 'other' to her, a hint of power, so he wasn't surprised to see a fellow Named One hovering around the dark hallway - though he had expected Despair. He _really_ didn’t want to see Despair.

He followed Destiny up to the roof, where they looked out onto the city, a group of what seemed to be disgruntled people gathering in the distance which made Death nervous since it might attract his father at some point. "You're here because of her," he stated as he tugged the hood of his shirt further over his forehead.

"Yes," Destiny agreed, his voice deep and weary; his eyes were clouded over with white cataracts from so many years of looking inward at the threads of endless lives he monitored and adjusted and knotted together and broke apart, all according to some vast 'tapestry' he was urged on to design. "She's... she was a descendant, was one I had hopes of passing the Name onto," that surprised Death, to hear Destiny speak of his own end, “but she was too tired to continue.”

Death stared at his fellow Named One, at one of the rare few who came close to him in power, and was stunned to realize that he could _feel_ Destiny’s end – the end of _that_ particular Destiny. Soon enough, perhaps anywhere from a month to a couple of years, there would be a new Destiny, would be a different man or woman gazing inward at those myriad threads.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wondering what Destiny would do now, how he would go about finding a new successor, since he didn’t know much about the process except having been selected himself. All he knew was that the new Named One had to accept, had to say ‘yes’ to taking on the Name, the Aspect, and couldn’t have it forced upon them. Well, not quite.

There were ways around that, of course. What truly mattered was that ‘yes’, was getting the person to say it, to believe that they meant it. Destruction and Deception had done their best to get Abram to say it, and he finally had at the end… but to _Death_. There had been some small satisfaction in ruining his father’s plans in such a grand fashion, in not only freeing himself but gaining enough power to ensure that Destruction and Deception couldn’t easily capture him again.

Yet it didn’t bring back his mother, it didn’t remove the awful memories of pain and blood and loss. It didn’t make him forget that all he’d ever been as Abram was a pawn in a game, a thing to be sacrificed and used, and that he’d cost his mother everything. So why not become Death? He would be there for Destruction’s end eventually, would have some small satisfaction in that, some revenge for his mother. He just regretted that while he was there at the end for so many, _many_ people, he hadn’t been the Death waiting there for her.

Destiny bowed his head in acknowledgement of the apology, appearing for a moment as only a middle-aged man with close-cropped black hair with a touch of grey at the temples, his weather-roughened skin creased around his eyes and mouth. Then the moonlight reflected in his eyes and there was an air of infinite age to him, the weight of millennia which made his worn jeans and chambray shirt appear out of place. “It happens. If I’d approached her a decade or two ago then the answer would have been different, but I still felt as if I had things to do.” He sighed as he ‘looked’ out over the city. “It creeps up on you, when it’s your time.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Death confessed.

That earned him a kind smile. “You’re still so young, and you work so hard.” Destiny bowed his head once more. “I apologize, because your thread… it’s a very, very long one, a tangled one, and it frays, from time to time.”

Death wondered if this was something he should be told, but there was little he could do to stop Destiny other than to leave and that seemed rude. “Thank you, I think,” he said, even if he shivered a little at that ‘fray’ part – he thought he had a good idea what Destiny meant; he had indeed ‘frayed’ a time or two in the past. It wasn’t comforting to think that he might ‘fray’ again in the future.

The sad smile Destiny gave him just then made it clear that his fellow Named One knew just how much comfort he had found in the revelation. “You’re welcome. But know this, even though you’ll fray… you won’t be alone.” Destiny’s head cocked to the side. “Yes, I can tell you that. Your thread isn’t alone for much longer.”

That didn’t make any sense – he was _Death_. He was there because there needed to be an end, he needed to be there for _others_ ’ ends, but no one was there for him. That was just part of his nature, part of the Name. There was the living and there was Death, and the two didn’t mix well. It was better that way, he’d learned, because on the whole people were cruel. They embraced Destruction and Deception and the Vices, they called forth the Furies because there was no other place for them to turn to for help when others tore at them.

His confusion must have shown on his face because Destiny shook his head. “You’ll see. Soon enough you’ll see.” Then he took a step back. “Thank you, for being there for Luciana.” That was all he said before he vanished, either to go _between_ or somewhere else, leaving Death to puzzle out what exactly he had meant.

Death could always track him down and ask for more of an explanation, but that would probably be bending the rules, and rude as well. Destiny had probably only told him that much in gratitude for the woman, even though Death had just been doing his job.

Hearing a loud noise off in the distance, Death decided that it would be best to move on, unsettled by that ‘fraying’ comment and unwilling to risk running into his father. He decided that it might be best to return to the apartment and reappeared in the bedroom, where he took some comfort in the cats gathered in the room; if they didn’t feel that the abode was safe then they wouldn’t be there. He sank down on the floor and let the small grey crawl onto his lap, and pet her while she told him about her day.

A large tabby had just come over to have his ears rubbed when there was a knock on the door. “Ah, Neil? You’re back?”

Frowning a little at the use of his ‘human’ name, Death nodded at first and then sighed. “Yes.”

Compassion opened the door and stepped inside, while Courage tried to do the same and was stopped by the wards; Death debated them for a moment before he altered them so the Virtue could enter as well, which earned him a grateful smile. “So, have a busy night?” Compassion asked, while Courage bent down to pick up the calico which had taken to winding along her ankles.

“A bit.” He rubbed the tabby a moment longer and then watched as it went over to Compassion for attention. “I saw Destiny.”

“Really?” Courage appeared surprised by that, while Compassion paused in petting the tabby and winced when he got his fingers nipped. “How’s he doing? I haven’t seen him in… oh, a few centuries at least.” She hoisted the calico a little higher in her arms while scratching beneath the kitten’s chin. “Someone’s a grumpy bastard, yes he is,” she said in an odd, high-pitched voice.

“To be fair, you did tell him he was an old-fashioned, narrow-minded braggart who needed to realize that it wasn’t the Pleistocene era anymore,” Death reminded her with a hint of disapproval.

“Oh yeah, that was great.” Compassion grinned at his lover until he seemed to pick up on Death’s disapproval. “What? He _is_ old-fashioned.”

“He really _has_ been around since the Pleistocene,” Death said. “Early Ionian stage, maybe, give or take several millennia.” It was difficult to tell when there were that many years, but Death did his best to narrow them down.

“Would you stop _that_ ,” Compassion grumbled, which made many of the cats flatten their ears in disapproval. “It’s a bit creepy, okay? And Dan had every reason to bitch at him when he was giving the new Clio grief.”

Death stared up at his friend at being taken to task for just telling the truth, and went to set the grey cat aside so he could leave again. Before he could, however, Courage shoved the calico into a suddenly upset Compassion’s arms and reached down to yank Death onto his feet, surprising him so much that he didn’t think to disappear.

“Wait! Don’t go, okay? So that didn’t come out right, he didn’t mean it like that.” She glared at Compassion for a moment before she pulled Death into a hug, shocking him even more. “You talk however you want, even if you sound like a walking encyclopedia.”

“A wiki,” he said as he wondered if it would be impolite to use his power to make her let him go, as the hug was very uncomfortable. “Uhm, please let go,” he tried in the hopes that she would listen to him for once.

“A what?” She actually did, as she pulled back to look down at him in confusion – unfortunately that left an opening for Compassion to grab him instead.

“You’re learning!” He ignored Death’s choked-off curse and squeezed him tight. “I’m sorry, that didn’t come out right, okay? It’s just that you freak people out when you do that ‘you’ve been alive two thousand and eight hundred years and forty five days and twenty-eight minutes stuff.”

“Down,” he managed to gasp, followed by a kick to Compassion’s knee, and wheezed when he was set back on the floor. “Stop that!” he demanded as he took a hasty step back, away from the two. “Why are you here, other than to assault me?”

Compassion appeared upset again, but Courage elbowed him aside. “We wanted to make sure that you were all right, considering that you left in a hurry.” She eyed him up and down as if checking him over. “Did one of the humans upset you?” Now she appeared a bit angry and smacked her right fist into her left hand as if eager to punch something. “Which one was it?”

“No, I just wanted to be by myself for a little while,” he admitted as he went to sit down on the bed, still careful to be out of reach. “It’s very tiring, being around the humans for so long.”

“But you’re supposed to be around them, that’s the point of everything,” Compassion argued. “How are you going to learn anything if you run away?”

“What am I learning so far?” Death frowned as he stroked a black cat’s back. “That they’re still spiteful to anyone who’s different? That they’re confusing and gluttonous and steal the drinks I make.”

Courage looked over at Compassion, her dark brows drawn together and her head cocked to the side, while he grinned back at her. “That sounded rather specific just then. So, how are you getting along with Andrew, hmm?”

Death’s frown deepened. “He’s a terrible thief and a glutton.”

“Oh, wait, Andrew’s the ‘they’?” Dan asked, her eyes sparkling with some pleased emotion for a strange reason. “ _Oh_.” She once again studied Death, which made him uncomfortable. “You’re getting along with a mortal?”

“He’s one of Apollo’s,” Death confessed. “So not entirely mortal.”

Compassion blinked at that as he slid his left arm around Courage’s waist. “Really? I would have thought Ares or something, considering how he’s always threatening to kill Nicky or scaring the customers.”

“No, not Ares.” Death continued to stroke his fingers through the cat’s soft fur. “Destiny is looking for a successor,” he added, unwilling to talk about Andrew any longer for some reason.

Neither of the two Virtues appeared to believe him at first, and then Courage shook her head. “Well, can’t say it’s a bad thing, considering how old he is. I mean, he argued with me for how long over a _man_ becoming a Grace.” Courage glared at that, obviously still not over the whole thing. “There’s no Rule saying that Graces or Muses have to be women. Some idiot artists painted them that way one time and it stuck in people’s heads.”

“It would be fitting if he picked a girl, someone who’d be all ‘but it’s _like_ , your destiny, _d’uh_ ’,” Compassion said in some strange accent, which made Death give him a blank look until he sighed. “Nothing? Really? Where’s the love?”

“You’re Compassion and not Thalia for a good reason, honey,” Courage told him as she patted his hand on her hip. “Just stand there and look pretty for me.” That made him smile as he gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Humans aren’t the only ones who confuse me,” Death admitted as he now gave them _both_ a flat look. “If you’re going to do that annoying flirting stuff, go away.”

“Annoying, huh?” Courage looked up at Compassion. “How many drinks did this _Andrew_ steal from him?”

“Several, from what I saw,” Compassion said with a sharp grin. “And Neil _let_ him.”

Not really, but Janus had said no harming the employees, and why were they still there? Why were they talking about Andrew like that and grinning? “That is not you leaving,” Death reminded the two Virtues. “I’m about to reset the wards.”

“Oh, he’s getting _snippy_.” Courage appeared too happy just then for some reason. “I have to see this _Andrew_.”

“No, you don’t,” Death insisted. “Don’t you have some soldier to inspire? A hero-to-be?” Anything better than to interfere in his life?

“Good suggestion, I think a certain someone will need a big dose of courage for this particular quest.” Courage’s eyes were way too bright just then, her smile much too sly. Of course Compassion wasn’t much better, since his expression was disgustingly happy at the moment.

Death regarded them for a couple of seconds then sighed. “Out. Three seconds and then I’m resetting the wards.”

“But-“

“One,” he counted, cutting across Compassion’s complaint. The Virtues didn’t say anything else before they fled, finally leaving him and the cats in peace. He did reset the wards, not trusting them to leave him alone after all that nonsense, and sighed as he bent down to bury his face in the soft fur of the black cat for a moment so he could center himself in the sound of its purr. “Sorry,” he said when he sat back up.

She told him that it was fine, though some food would be appreciated. He got up to fetch one of the bags in the closet and poured some of its contents in the empty bowls, then sat back on the bed while the cats fed, content to sit and watch them eat for the time being while he did his best to _not_ think about Andrew.

*******

“How are things going at the coffee shop?” Dr. Shahin asked, a question Andrew had been dreading as she’d gone down the usual list, having already asked about home and school. “Still working on defining your boundaries with Mr. Wymack?”

“We’ve pretty much leaving it at he doesn’t make me interact with the customers too much and I don’t give him too many headaches a day.” Andrew was being rather loose on his definition of ‘too many’ there, but it was all a matter of one’s own perception, yes? That was something he’d learned in years of therapy, even if some days it seemed that he didn’t come out of the office with much else. He missed the cups of hot chocolate Bee used to make for him or the bars of candy she’d hand out, but he got those at home now. Dr. Shahin didn’t believe in having sweets in her office, but she also didn’t believe in medication unless absolutely necessary or forcing him to talk, and she had an oddly soothing presence.

He’d tried a few other psychiatrists after Bee before settling on Shahin, but for some reason he’d felt comfortable with her right away, felt able to sit still in her office and last out the then twice weekly hour sessions. It had still taken a while to open up and talk, but she was bearable despite being a woman and not Bee, despite prying into his head and asking him to talk about his demons. And despite the fact that he wasn’t a ‘child’ any longer, that he was legally an adult, she still saw him.

“That doesn’t sound like a true solution to me,” Dr. Shahin said, making it clear that she was on to Andrew, but there was a trace of a smile on her lips and amusement in her dark, almond-shaped eyes. There was a hint of her native Egyptian accent in her smooth voice, and as usual she wore her long black hair pulled back in a neat braid and only a hint of make-up on her face, a little eyeliner and some lip gloss, her dark suit cut in a conservative style. She had hardly aged in the almost six years that Andrew had known her, looking good for a woman in her early forties, and though she wore a wedding ring on her left hand, he’d never heard her talk about her husband. “But since you’re still employed there, it seems to be working out well enough for you so we’ll see how it goes over the next few weeks. How are you getting along with the other employees? Still problems with the one young girl?” She glanced down at her notes. “Sheena?”

He shook his head. “No, she got a job elsewhere.” Had gotten the hint that Andrew wasn’t going to put up with her snide remarks about Nicky any longer so it was in her best interest to leave while she could still breathe on her own. He debated whether to mention Neil, and of course Shahin picked up on that.

“Is there another person causing you conflict at work?”

“Not conflict, per se,” Andrew sighed as he tapped the fingers of his right hand against the arm rest of the chair. “Wymack hired two new people and one of them is an idiot.”

Dr. Shahin regarded him for a moment with those dark eyes of hers, and Andrew swore he felt an odd warmth in the room. “How so? Is that a slight against his intelligence?”

“No… I don’t know.” Andrew huffed as he tried to put _Neil_ into words. “He’s not from around here and has the oddest way of talking – no filter at all. No sense of preservation, either, he leaves the windows open in his apartment for _cats_.” Andrew shifted in his chair as he thought about Neil, about how one person could be so oblivious and stupid and annoying. “Then he gets on me about eating sweets, telling me about all this diabetes stuff and how many people die from the disease when he’s going to get his throat slit one night or have a cat suffocate him.”

“I see.” For some reason, Dr. Shahin was staring off at the other side of the room while she fingered the sun pendant hanging from her neck. “Cats, you say?”

“Yes, cats.” Andrew frowned at her. “Why, you allergic to the things?”

“No, not quite.” Dr. Shahin smiled at that, the expression greatly amused. “I’m rather fond of them, actually.”

“Then you should get along great with the idiot,” Andrew said, his tone a bit sour.

“Hmm, perhaps.” She focused on him while still holding on to the sun pendant. “So he works at the Laughing Fox? For Mr. Wymack?”

“Yeah, though I get the impression that Wymack’s not that happy with him.” Why was she so interested in Neil all of a sudden?

“It’s probably just your issues with the young man coloring your impressions of his relationships with others,” Shahin told him. “Mr. Wymack is very good about taking people in on faith and giving them second chances, even third ones, from what I know about the man. You could learn from him,” she said with a slight smile. “On being more open and forgiving.”

“Who would pay for a new BMW when the time comes for an upgrade then, hmm?” Andrew asked. “What good is it if your patients get all better?”

Dr. Shahin’s smile smoothed out into a blank mask. “You _should_ be getting better. All children must learn to walk on their own eventually, to go out into the world. Healing has a purpose, to make one better, and I _want_ you to be better. I’m not worried about myself.”

For some reason he believed her when she said things like that – though it helped that should he ever get ‘better’, that she had a waiting list of new clients to slide into his open spot. There never was an end to broken people needing to be healed, that was certain.

But she had a unique way of speaking, something that reminded him of a redheaded idiot, now that he thought about it. He wondered if Neil had spent any time in Egypt during his wanderings.

“We still have a little time left, is there anything else you’d like to discuss? Did you try the meditation exercises we talked about a couple of weeks ago?”

Andrew bit back on a sigh as he thought about those, the mantras he was supposed to focus on for a few minutes each day which he thought were stupid. “I had a strange dream,” he told her, rather than go into the whole ‘meditation doesn’t work for me’ spiel. “It was about that night with Drake, in the forest.” Shahin knew him and his past well enough that was all he needed to say; her dark eyes focused on him and she gave him an encouraging nod to continue. “It started out the same as always, except it changed for once.” She also knew about his memory, and how dreams normally didn’t change on him.

“How so?” she asked, her voice and expression even as if to not influence him in any manner.

He hesitated before deciding to share some of the details. “There was a woman in it, a woman with wings, who went into the tent and did something to Drake. I never dreamt that part before.”

Dr. Shahin regarded him for several seconds before she leaned back into her chair and seemed to think about that. “Hmm. Well, if we went with a classic interpretation, it could be your mind casting Betsy as your savior, as the person who broke the cycle of abuse and gave you a safe home. Did the woman look like her?”

“No.”

“I see.” She pressed her right hand over the sun pendant for a few seconds. “It’s very interesting, why the dream changed now. You are going through an… adjustment in your life, a transition of types, into adulthood as you earn your degree and take on more responsibilities. There is also you learning more about your birth mother in recent years.”

“Nicky told me about her when he moved in, which was three years ago,” Andrew pointed out, unwilling to talk about Tilda just then. Unwilling to talk about her at all, really.

“The mind is an odd thing.” Dr. Shahin’s glossy lips quirked in an almost smile. “It’s what helps pay for that nice BMW parked outside, after all.”

Andrew narrowed his eyes at the woman, but he had to give her that. “Is it too late to change my major if you’re going to give out pat answers like that for how much money an hour?”

“You’re deflecting again, Andrew.”

“You started it, Dr. Shahin.”

That prompted a laugh from her, and they shifted onto Andrew’s ‘relationship’ with Nicky (not what he’d call his failure to murder the pest as of yet – it was difficult to find a decent spot to get rid of the body when he was so busy with work and school and just a bit lazy) until his time for the week was up.

As he got up to leave Dr. Shahin’s office, she rose as well. “Perhaps you should keep a dream journal, if they’re changing on you. It might help you remember important details that way.” When he gave her a flat look at that, she shook her head. “I know you remember things, but you need to be conscious to recall them, and forcing yourself to wake up and write them down would help with that.”

“I’ll think about it,” he told her, unwilling to remember any more nightmares than he already had. Besides, there was something _special_ about the dream, enough so that he doubted he’d have any problems recalling its details if he dreamt it again.

“It’s up to you, but let me know if you dream the woman with the metallic wings again. Have a good week, Andrew.” She gave him a warm smile before nodding to her next patient, a young girl who was huddled in a sweater at least two sizes too big for her.

Andrew forced himself to nod back and keep his face expressionless as he left the outer office, painted in warm colors of pale red and creams with accents of blue and gold, much like the room he had just left, and lit a cigarette once outside. He sat in his car and smoked it down to the filter while he stared at the medical building instead of going back to campus to pick up Nicky, and thought about how he hadn’t told Dr. Shahin that the woman in his dream had metallic wings.

How had she known? It wasn’t common for winged creatures to have feathers made of metal, so how could she guess? Andrew had never mentioned that particular dream before, at least as far as he could remember, so either his memory was faulty or Dr. Shahin was holding something back from him. Either option left him distinctly… displeased. Especially since it seemed that Dr. Shahin knew something in both cases.

The weekly sessions were about to become a lot less chatty. The good thing was, he was no longer a minor so it was up to him if he continued them; if Bee pressed for him to do so, he would just find another therapist. Though honestly, after six years of the things Andrew doubted that anyone was going to make him better than he currently was so why bother?

When he felt as if he could drive without wanting to ram the car into someone, he started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot so he could go pick up Nicky then head home, where he planned to catch up on his assignments for the week.

Nicky slid into the car with a huge grin on his face, then noticed Andrew’s dark mood and was quiet for the drive home. They went their separate ways, each to their own bedroom, where Andrew worked on an essay required for his Policing in America class, when Bee knocked on his door and waited for him to let her in. She entered the room with two mugs of hot chocolate held in her hands, one of which she set down on his desk. “So, Abby’s going to stop by for dinner later, if that’s okay.”

In other words, Nicky had blabbed to Bee that Andrew was in a bad mood and Bee wanted to know if it was all right to have the nurse over. He shrugged as he picked up the mug. “It’s fine,” he told her. “Means that dinner’s semi-decent tonight, right?”

Bee smiled at him and had a sip of her own drink. “Cheese raviolis and turkey meatballs, and lots of garlic bread.” When he grunted in approval, her smile widened. “I’ll fix up a plate for you to have in here and spare you the senseless babble, how about that?”

He grunted again, so she had another sip and went to turn around. “Hey, did I ever meet Dr. Shahin before you arranged for her to potentially take over your sessions with me?” he asked as he held onto the mug with both hands, his attention seemingly focused on the dark beverage inside.

“Hmm? Dr. Shahin?” Bee paused in turning away, her expression a bit perplexed for a moment, and then it became considering as she gave the question some thought. “As far as I know, that was the first time, yes. But she’s connected to the same hospital network I work in, so I can’t say that with a hundred percent certainty.” He could tell she wanted to ask him why he wanted to know, but she respected his need for the information and would wait to see if he told her in his own time.

Andrew trusted Bee, trusted her enough to live with her, to keep his door unlocked at night, to open up to her about almost anything, to stay in the house once he turned eighteen. To allow Nicky to live here. So he considered what she had told him, the expression on her face… and he trusted her to tell him the truth. There were very, _very_ few people he trusted like that, but she was one of them.

“Don’t let Nicky eat all the garlic bread or I’m stabbing him. Besides, he’s getting fat lately, his pants are too tight and not in the way he likes. Tell him that.”

Bee shook her head as she turned toward the door. “It’s all right to express affection for people you like, you know.”

“But I don’t like him,” Andrew insisted. “He’s annoying and loud and meddles too much. Get him to lose some weight so it won’t be too much of an effort to bury his body.”

“While I usually encourage you to express yourself in your own unique way, I think you might want to reflect upon the value of thinking about what you say before you speak,” Bee chided as she reached door. “And remember that none of this falls under patient confidentiality anymore,” she told him with a wink before closing the door behind her.

That just meant that Andrew had to work a little harder in order to not get caught, but that was fine, he enjoyed a challenge. For some reason the image of a certain redhead with clear blue eyes flashed through his head at the moment, but he shoved it aside, annoyance sparking through him as he sipped his hot chocolate and forced himself to focus on his assignment.

*******

Death gritted his teeth together when Andrew snatched yet another drink from his hand. “Wrong _again_.”

“The only thing wrong here is you,” he gritted out as he glared at the bastard, having finally reached his limit of what he was going to put up with from the human. From a _mortal_. He was Death, and he was being treated like an idiot by a gluttonous mortal of all things. “You gobermouch,” he let loose, finally giving free rein to the temper he’d been holding back for over an hour, the insults he’d wanted to spew for the last few shifts.

Andrew paused in sipping his drink to stare at him. “Excuse me?”

“You’re a lubberwort,” Death insisted. “A _runknisse_ , _Dummes huhn_ ,” he told the lazy bastard with great pleasure.

Now Andrew’s eyes narrowed as he set the drink aside. “I actually understood two words there, not that they made any sense. What is it with you and death wishes?”

 “ _Tu me fais chier_ ,” Death told him while still glaring, “you rapscallion.”

“Matt,” Andrew called out while eyeing Death with heavy consideration while his right hand toyed with the edge of his left sleeve. “Your roommate seems to be possessed by evil spirits and I’m about to start beating them out of him.”

“Wait, what?” Compassion looked up from the customer he’d been talking to then hurried over toward them with an anxious Nicky in tow. “What the hell is going on? Neil?”

“He’s a damn guttersnipe,” Death informed his friend. “A guttersnipe and _un_ _glos pautonnier_.”

Compassion groaned as if in pain while Nicky gaped at him for some reason. “For fuck’s – twenty-first century, Neil! _Twenty-first century_!” he said in a rush while he jerked at a handful of his spiky hair.

“ _Is cuma liom sa diabhal_ ,” Neil snapped, so furious at being yelled at for calling Andrew out on his appalling behavior that he couldn’t keep the languages straight just then.

“Just admit it,” Andrew said as he leaned against the counter, the stolen drink back in hand. “He’s here hiding from whatever mental hospital he escaped from, right?”

“I can maim him with my own hands, right? That’s fair game,” Neil ground out as he lunged at Andrew, only to be grabbed by Compassion – damn the Virtue’s long arms.

“What the _hell_ is going on here?” Janus shouted as Compassion jerked Death away from an unimpressed Andrew. “There’s a line of customers and you maggots are playing around?”

“Neil’s speaking in tongues,” Andrew said as god stomped over to them. “I think the shame of failing as a barista is getting to him.”

“ _Skamelar_!” Death shouted while kicking out his legs since Compassion had lifted him up off the floor, which caused everyone to turn and stare at him with various expressions of incredulousness.

“Fuck me, haven’t heard that one in a while,” Janus mused while Andrew took out his phone and was swiping on it for some reason.

“I don’t care if you think it’s a waste of time, we’re watching some movies tonight,” Compassion insisted as Death struggled to break free. “You are in _desperate_ need for some cultural enlightenment. ‘ _Gutternsnipe_ ’? Really?”

“It’s a perfectly fine curse,” Death muttered. ‘Cultural enlightenment’ indeed, it was just a bunch of explosions and people pawing at each other and improbable scenarios which made people look at him at their own ends and go ‘but why am I dead’?

“Yeah, for an Elizabethan gentleman. Now behave, dammit,” Compassion snapped before he finally set Death down so he could go back to the register, along with Nicky. “You, me, Quentin Tarantino movie marathon.”

It sounded horrible.

“So what’s a runknise?” Andrew asked Janus, incorrectly pronouncing the word.

It took the god a moment to understand what he meant to say, and then he laughed. “ _Runknisse_? Oh that’s a good one!” He grinned at Death before he went back to his office, which left Death with a rather displeased Andrew.

“Seriously, just when I think we’ve reached the limits of your idiocy, you expand them even further,” Andrew said while tapping at the screen displaying the drink orders. “Were you raised in a commune or something?”

“No.” Death pushed his temper aside with some effort so he could focus on the drinks, on doing his mortal job. Just a few more hours, a mere blink of time, when he thought about it. Why did Andrew annoy him so much? “Were you raised in a den of thieves?”

For some reason, Andrew’s expression grew shuttered and he took a step back. “Would have been nice, but no. Don’t fuck up too much without me, I’m taking a smoke break.” Then he walked away, even though Death had at least eight drinks waiting to be made.

There had been something wrong with that question, but Death didn’t know what – Andrew had been circling around Death’s past the last couple of shifts that they’d worked together, and that was one of the few personal questions, indirect that it was, that he’d asked of the mortal. Why had Andrew reacted like that?

It just proved to him yet again that he had no place interacting with the living, that this latest ‘lesson’ was going to end like the rest of them, in failure. The only thing he would see while being near Andrew was the inevitable rejection and fear that he did from every other mortal in the end.

Just a little longer and he could go back to his normal routine, his normal life, and forget foolishness like this for a few more centuries.

*******

Andrew ate a triple chocolate cupcake while pointedly staring at Neil, and the idiot didn’t react at all, didn’t even look at him while he gazed off at nothing. In fact, Neil hadn’t said anything to him since he came back from his smoke break, had merely finished the drinks from the sudden rush they’d had and hadn’t blinked when Andrew had claimed another ‘mistake’, then taken to ‘shutting down’ once it had gotten quiet. Despite Andrew’s best efforts, he couldn’t spur the idiot on to another flare of temper or even to speak.

It had been somewhat amusing, Neil’s hissy fit earlier, even if Andrew didn’t know most of the shit he’d been spouting – there had been German, French, possibly Gaelic and he was still trying to figure out the one word that had made that bastard Wymack laugh. Awful lot of languages for someone so young; Andrew itched to take a look at Neil’s documents back in Wymack’s office, to see if he was a U.S. citizen or had a work visa from somewhere. Andrew had a feeling that if he tried asking directly, it would just be more evasive answers.

He hated how with each new day, he only had more questions about the idiot, was left with a stronger curiosity about what had made Neil such a bundle of contradictions – how he could be so hot-tempered one moment and so detached the next, how he knew such antiquated insults and languages and lived without a proper guardian but didn’t seem to know things like pizza or the various contemporary topics Nicky brought up. Why he seemed unconcerned about wandering around the city by himself or leaving his apartment wide open at night. Was he some rich kid’s son and secretly had people watching over him? In the Witness Protection program and Matt was his bodyguard?

Or was just too broken that he didn’t give a fuck if someone killed him one night?

That last thought grated on Andrew’s nerves for some reason, as did the sight of Neil just standing there, hunched in on himself with his right hand tugging on his hood and those big blue eyes unfocused, that Andrew reached out and wiped his icing-smeared fingers on the pale blue sleeve of Neil’s long-sleeved t-shirt. The touch startled the idiot out of his thoughts, and Andrew swore he felt a flash of cold for a moment.

“What?” Neil blinked at him and then down at his sleeve. “You really are a-“ he paused to glance over at Matt, “a bastard.”

“What, no inventive curses for me this time?” Andrew asked.

Neil shot another sour look over at his friend. “Apparently, not until after I’ve suffered through a few hours of cinematic torture.” First he appeared frustrated, and then it turned into confusion. “They were perfectly good insults.”

Yes, for a Shakespearean villain.  “Are you Amish or something?” It might explain a few things.

Neil looked at him as if he was insane. “I have no religion.”

“Oh, so you’re an atheist.” There went that theory.

“No, I-“ Neil let out a heavy sigh and ran his hands through his hair, which sent his hood falling back onto his shoulders. “Why do you make everything so confusing?” The complaint came out in a rather plaintive manner, and only the fact that Andrew had the impression that it wasn’t aimed solely at him kept him from smacking the idiot.

Before Andrew could say anything else or point out that he wasn’t the only one confusing things just then, he heard a familiar voice. “Neil! Look who I ran into!”

He glanced over to find Neil’s other roommate, Dan, waving to the idiot while some tall guy with blond hair stood behind her with a huge grin on his face. For some reason Neil made a faint whimpering sound and jerked the hood over his head as if that would make him disappear, and Andrew swore that the idiot… well, ‘shimmered’ was the best description of it, he guessed. Seemed to flicker in and out for a few frantic moments before solidifying, while Andrew wondered if maybe he hadn’t had too much damn caffeine and sugar in the last hour.

“De- ah, _Neil_!” the stranger said as he beamed in Neil’s direction; Andrew felt a flush of anger at that pleased expression and Neil’s obviously unhappy reaction. “It’s been so long, yes?” He was another one with an accent – it sounded German.

“Why do the Fates hate me so much?” Neil asked in such a forlorn manner before turning to Andrew. “Are there any virgin goats we can sacrifice?” When Andrew just stared back at him for that ridiculous statement, he sighed. “Yes, you can eat them afterward.”

“First off, hell no. Second off, fucking _issues_ ,” Andrew declared as he rubbed at his face while he gave serious consideration to the whole ‘escaped from a mental hospital’ theory.

“I just think we’re way past the usual offering of honey and wine right now,” Neil grumbled, then cringed even farther from the man waving to him from the other side of the counter. “This is all Tis- Natalie’s fault.”

That reminded Andrew – how _did_ Neil know Natalie, and why hadn’t she stopped by lately? However, before he could inquire about that, the loud stranger called out Neil’s name again.

“How are you? Are you really working here?”

Neil frowned at the questions, while Nicky jumped forward with a huge grin on his face. “Neil! You know this handsome young man?” He was batting his eyes so much at the stranger that Andrew was amazed that the pest wasn’t dizzy yet. “You _have_ to introduce us!”

“Uhm, okay.” Neil took a wary step forward and motioned to the stranger, whose smile had taken on a pleased edge when he caught sight of Nicky. “Ah, this is....”

“Erik,” the stranger said as he gave a slight bow. “Erik Klose.”

“We ran into each other earlier in the day,” Dan said, breaking away from the private conversation she’d been having with Matt. “Once he found out that the two of you were working here, he insisted on tagging along.”

“Yes!” Erik flashed a bright smile Neil’s way. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen… Neil, so I wanted a chance to catch up with him.” Then he turned the smile on an obviously besotted Nicky. “I can now understand why he chooses to work in such a place.”

Nicky held out his hand to Erik, who gazed at it for a couple of seconds before shaking it. “I’m Nicky, Nicky Hemmick, one of Neil’s friends.” That statement wrung a faint murmur of complaint out of Neil, but the two morons were too entranced with each other or some such shit to hear. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Erik bowed again, that time over Nicky’s hand. “I am pleased to meet you.”

Dan grinned at the two of them before looking up at Matt. “Since Erik’s new to town just like me, I invited him over to the place tonight.”

“ _No_ ,” Neil wheezed, but Dan and Matt seemed to ignore him.

“Great! We’re watching movies,” Matt said as he reached over the counter to hold his girlfriend’s hands. “Neil needs some cultural enlightenment.”

“No, I _don’t_ ,” Neil called out, but it appeared that his friends were really determined to ignore him for some reason.

“Oh! We’ll make a party out of it!” she said. “When was the last time he was at a party?” Both she and Matt seemed to think on that while Neil groaned and yanked on his hood hard enough that Andrew was surprised the material didn’t rip. Then Matt winced and Dan’s face went through a fast change of emotions, none of them good. “Right, err, _that_ won’t happen this time.”

“I wasn’t the one who wanted Chinese that night,” Neil mumbled.

The complaint earned him a disgruntled look from Matt. “It never occurred to you to mention the-“ He paused to look over at Andrew and took a deep breath. “The _special ingredients_ that night?”

Neil frowned for a moment then sighed, while Andrew wondered if the drinks had been spiked or something. “Why? It didn’t affect us.” Okay, definitely spiked.

Matt muttered something in an indecipherable language, maybe Spanish, then shook his head. “Movie night. No special ingredients, and you’re going to have _fun_ , buddy.”

“Yay,” Neil said in an utterly flat tone of voice, his face just as devoid of emotion. “I can’t hardly wait. It’ll be just like the Dark Ages again and feel just as long.”

Dan took to laughing and Matt glowering at his remark, while Erik grinned. “I think some drinks would help, yes? It’s never a party without drinks, or so my people believe.”

Nicky lit up at that comment. “ _Yes_! You can’t have a party or a movie marathon without some drinks or snacks! What are you thinking? Do you need some help with getting them?” He leaned a little closer to Erik. “We’re off in another hour, I can go with you while you get them then.”

Oh no. Andrew glared at his cousin, having an idea about what was happening, what those fawning looks were leading to, and before he could nip it in the bud, Erik leaned in a little closer as well. “What a generous offer,” he said with a smile that brought a blush to Nicky’s cheeks as if he wasn’t an experienced lecher. “Since I’m new to the area that would help immensely. In fact, why don’t you come along?” He turned toward Dan, whose expression brightened up at the suggestion. “Would you mind?”

“No, the more the merrier, in fact, that’ll make it the proper party.” She grinned as she looked over at Andrew. “The both of you should come.”

Neil took to shaking his head and Andrew to frowning, while Nicky all but squealed in delight. “Yes! Thank you, we’ll be there.” When Andrew gave his cousin a displeased look, Nicky unleased the big sad eyes on him. “It’ll be fun!” Then he mouthed ‘free alcohol’, the bastard.

Andrew debated it for another few seconds, almost willing to tell Nicky ‘no’ for the perverse hell of it, but free alcohol was free alcohol. “Fine.” That way he could get his drinks and figure out who the hell this Erik was, why he seemed to annoy Neil so much and maybe find out a little more about the idiot.

“Great! It’ll be a blast!” Dan and Erik ordered some coffee and hung out at the register a little longer, at least until some more customers came in, then things slowed down for the last part of the shift. While Neil cleaned up and got things ready for the closing crew and Andrew had a cake-pop, he leaned against the counter and watched a clearly irked idiot work.

“So, who is Erik?” Who was the tall, good looking man only too happy to see Neil yet also quite happy to flirt with Nicky, other than someone who had better than average odds of being stabbed at some point that night?

“Hmm?” Neil paused in wiping down the counter to look at Andrew; whatever his issues, he had a decent work ethic. “Erik?” He glanced out into the shop, where Nicky was pretending to clean the tables so he could do more flirting. “Ah, he’s someone I’ve known for a while.”

When it appeared that he was going to leave it at that, Andrew threw the picked clean stick from the cake-pop into the trash and tugged at the left sleeve of his shirt, which for some reason had taken to fraying even if it was new. “No shit. _How_ do you know him?” He wasn’t in the mood for Neil’s evasive crap, not when Nicky was involved.

Something in his tone made Neil pause again and pay proper attention to him, to focus those startling clear eyes his way. “I ran into him a bit while in Europe, especially Germany since that’s where he’s from,” Neil admitted.

“What’s he like?” Andrew hadn’t ever seen Nicky become so infatuated so quickly like that, to blush and stammer like a fool – normally he moved in for the kill, intentions up front that he wanted a good time and little more. Luther Hemmick had done a number on his son all right, was one of the reasons why Andrew didn’t want anything to do with his ‘real’ family outside of Nicky. “Is he an asshole or what?” There had to be a reason Neil wasn’t happy to see the guy.

“Erik, an asshole?” Neil cocked his head to the side as if he was considering the question. “No, he’s not,” he told Andrew, his demeanor serious as if he knew how important the answer was just then. “He’s… he and his family are ‘good’, you can say. They don’t mean any harm.” That was an odd thing to say. “He’s nice to me probably because others aren’t, it’s just… it’s an _Erik_ thing to do, and Dan is friends with him and some people he knows. He’s just a bit much to take at times, because of reasons you’ll find out soon enough, probably.” A hint of a smile curled the corners of his lips at that last comment.

Andrew considered all of that, what it meant for Nicky and relaxed. “All right. Let’s hope there’s enough liquor tonight to make him bearable, then.”

“Hmm, at least if Nicky is going along then it shouldn’t be all mead.” Neil shuddered at that.

What, were Matt, Dan and Erik hipsters or something? Or were they some of those historical freaks, the ones who dressed up on weekends to fight in costume? That might explain a few things. “You into cosplay and stuff?”

“Huh?” Neil blinked in confusion as he resumed wiping the counter. “No?”

That didn’t sound like an outright denial, and for some reason the image of Neil in a sailor outfit, skirt and all, put Andrew in a disgruntled mood for the rest of the shift. Part of him understood that it was hormones and the fact that the last guy he’d been with who sort of understood boundaries had been months ago, and that he was in close proximity with a gorgeous idiot with big blue eyes and auburn curls begging for fingers to run through them and long legs and- fuck. _Fuck_.

Part of him understood that Neil might be the slightest bit attractive.

Part of him.

Part of him _also_ understood that Neil had a fuck-ton of issues and hadn’t shown the slightest bit of interest and said that he didn’t swing and there was a _lot_ of things backing that ‘casual’ slip of the tongue up. That Neil didn’t seem to like it when people paid a lot of attention to him, didn’t like people getting close to him or touching him or – _fuck_.

Except that he seemed to let Andrew get close and talked to Andrew, even if it was to call him a bunch of ridiculous things or blink those huge blue eyes at him or spout a bunch of nonsense statistics at him.

All right, Andrew was officially confused, which wasn’t something that happened often. Nicky better buy a _lot_ of alcohol. Perhaps it was best if Andrew left the car at home and took an Uber ride to Neil’s apartment, because he had the impression that he would need to take advantage of the free alcohol that night.

Andrew eyed an obviously confused idiot for a few more seconds before he went to track down his cousin with the intentions of making sure that Nicky got enough potent alcohol that Andrew benefited from the evening somehow.

*******

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *******  
> There you go, mouthy Neil has surfaced. More or less. Maybe the 'fraying' Destiny was talking about was Death's patience/last nerve?
> 
> Hmm, I've a feeling that Death!Neil isn't that lucky.
> 
> And Erik!!!
> 
> Chapter was posted a little early as people are forcing me to be social later when I just want to write. BAH. Good news is, Armies is finished! Look for the last chapter on Wednesday, those of you who are also reading that fic.
> 
> As always, thanks so much for the comments and kudos!  
> *******


	6. Death the Movie Critic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, so I changed the chapter titles. Just thought maybe the obscure quotes didn't fit it. We'll see how this lasts. 
> 
> New chapter! Things are shaken up a little/kicked into a higher gear.
> 
> Just a wee bit of swearing in here. And spoilers for Quentin Tarantino movies?
> 
> Also, some discussion about sacrificing, fair warning (we are talking about gods and stuff here).  
> *******

******

*******

Death debated hiding behind his wards all night, in refusing to leave his room, but he knew it would only prolong the torture, that the moment he left his sanctuary Compassion would pounce and inflict the ‘movie marathon’ and a great bit of haranguing upon him. One of the most powerful Named Ones out there, a being feared by gods and immortals and countless mortals, and he was being ordered around by a couple of Virtues. Why was he putting up with this nonsense?

He sighed as he poured some dry food into the bowls for the cats then went to face his doom with two of the cats trailing after him, and noticed that Compassion was already halfway down the hallway to his room. “There you are!” his supposed friend called out to him. “Thought we’d have to drag you out of there or something.”

“No,” was all Death said, though the peeved look he gave the Virtue made Compassion sigh.

“It’ll be fun, just give it a chance,” Compassion mumbled as if upset. “You do remember what ‘fun’ is, don’t you?”

“I remember you telling me we were supposedly having it back in Verona,” Death reminded the tall oaf as he ducked Compassion’s attempt to tousle his hair – why did people keep trying to do that? – and frowned. “All I did was watch you drink, and then that rude Corsican showed up. It wasn’t much ‘fun’ after that.”

Compassion’s brows drew together as he seemed to recall the occasion. “Hmm, you ever notice that messed up stuff seems to happen a lot when we hang out together?”

The man was just _now_ realizing that? Death hoped that ‘Erik’ had gotten a lot of alcohol, though it took an inordinate amount to affect him because of his nature. He was tempted to drink that much at the moment.

They reached the living room, and Death was slightly taken back at the preparations which had occurred while he’d been in his room. There were bowls and platters of food on most of the flat surfaces of the furniture which weren’t meant for sitting, those ‘chips’ that Compassion liked so much and a couple of boxes of what looked to be pizza, bowls of something creamy and vegetables and… just a lot of food. There were also several bottles of alcohol and lots of small glasses, and a large plastic container which was set on the floor. Courage, Erezekiel and Nicky appeared satisfied with themselves and already had drinks in their hands.

“All we need is for Andrew to arrive and the party can start,” Compassion declared as he went over to sit next to Courage on the couch, for some reason winking at Death.

Death sighed as he glanced around the room and figured that he’d grab a spot on the floor. He’d just settled down on a pillow with his back to the wall and the cats curling up with him when Nicky handed him a bowl of the fried potato slices. “So, any preferences for a drink?”

“Not really,” he said while setting the bowl on the floor so the cats could investigate it. The grey sniffed once and sank back down in his lap, while the black cat fished out a couple of the chips with her paw.  Nicky watched on with evident fascination before going away to do something with a couple of the bottles while the cat munched on the snacks and proclaimed them to be ‘not bad’.

At least one of them was enjoying things.

Death sipped his drink and decided that it was better than mead, it didn’t contain poison and hoped that it was potent. At the moment he didn’t sense any possibility of someone dying – at least in the apartment – and hoped that the movies were better than the last marathon he’d had to endure. Though to be fair, Courage’s picks hadn’t been too bad, it was just that there had been too many of them and it all became a muddle of space fights and odd special effects and Courage and Compassion arguing over which series was better when Death just hadn’t _cared_.

He didn’t understand why people couldn’t leave him alone to do his job. Why Compassion and Courage forced him to suffer through things like these, why Wrath dragged him off for drinks or coffee or dinner, why they didn’t worry about their own aspects instead of him. He was _fine_.

Once more debating sneaking away when the glass was empty, Death was about to set the cats aside while Courage and Compassion argued over the movie order for the night and Nicky was asking Erezekiel if he liked to dance (he was Ljósálfar, of course he liked to dance). However, there was a knock on the door just then and Compassion got up to open it, grinning as he called out Andrew’s name.

Something seemed to… Death didn’t know what it was, exactly, the sensation inside of him just then. But it made him feel ‘solid’, made the urge to slide _between_ fade away and for him to remain where he was as his gaze settled on the mortal, even as he tugged at his hood when Andrew’s gaze roamed around the room and seemed to search him out, those almost golden eyes so intent and bright with intelligence.

Death sighed in weariness and held up his glass to be refilled.

******

Andrew frowned into his glass of whiskey as he watched Neil watch ‘Inglourious Basterds’; the idiot was curled up on the floor with two damn cats in his lap and a puzzled look on his face as he stared at the television. Every now and then he would sip from the glass that Nicky or Matt was quick to refill, but he didn’t seem drunk. Confused as hell, yes, but not drunk, and repeating a now familiar litany of “but it _didn’t_ happen this way.” He didn’t blink once at all of the violence on the screen, other than to scoff now and then at some character’s improbable death, but the historical inaccuracies of the movie apparently bothered the hell out of him.

The scene of Hitler and Goebbels being killed was apparently too much, as he took to shaking his head and scowling. “But it _didn’t_ ha-“

“We _know_ ,” Matt muttered as he leaned forward to glare at Neil. “It’s a _movie_ , just accept that it’s not real and watch it.”

That seemed to anger Neil for some reason. “You should know why that’s not a wise thing. How mor-“ He glanced at Andrew and seemed to rethink what he was going to say as he took a large gulp of his drink. “How people believe what they see and read.”

“I doubt anyone here believes that this is real,” Matt argued as he sat back on the couch, now appearing exasperated and a little tired.

“Yeah,” Nicky chimed in from where he was sitting much too close to Erik, who for once wasn’t smiling. “I mean, I know better than to think most Germans during the war were assholes because of watching this movie.” He reached over to pat Erik on the thigh – on the upper right thigh. _Very upper_ right thigh. Then left his hand there as he continued to smile at the German, whose expression was oddly thoughtful for someone being groped.

“I agree with Neil, it’s not accurate and it trivializes that evil,” Erik argued as he leaned forward to grab a bottle of vodka. “And why are the heroes always American?”

“Not you, too,” Matt sighed, _definitely_ tired and exasperated. “It’s a _movie_.”

“It’s _ridiculous_ ,” Neil muttered as he tugged at his hood. “It’s been what, a century now, and they can’t do any better than _this_? I’m not impressed with the art form.”

Andrew cocked his head to the side as he puzzled out that statement, which was decidedly odd, while it sounded as if Matt was grinding his teeth together. “All right then, on to the next movie,” Dan announced in a rush as she grabbed the remote. “How about Kill Bill?” she asked as she grinned at Neil. “Kick-ass women, what’s not to love?”

“Yay,” Neil ‘enthused’ in an emotionless tone. “Am I going to be subjected to more ridiculous amounts of fake blood and the word ‘fuck’ every other sentence?”

“It’s better than _skamelar,”_ Matt muttered as he grabbed the bottle of Jägermeister and went over to splash its contents into Neil’s glass. When it looked as if the idiot was going to argue, Matt narrowed his eyes at him. “No _._ _No_ _._ This is for your own good, so sit there, drink and watch, dammit.” Then his temper seemed to melt into guilt when Neil huddled in on himself and the grey cat hissed. “Look, we’ll do another marathon with films you’d probably like, some more historical stuff another night,” he said in a softer voice as he crouched down by Neil. “But you said you’d try, right? So _please_ give this a chance.”

Neil was quiet for a few seconds, then he sighed and reached for the bottle in Matt’s right hand, which he tugged free and set on the floor before he nodded once.

Matt was smiling in what looked to be relief as he went back to the couch, and Dan seemed to take that as a sign to start the next movie. Andrew leaned forward in the chair to grab another slice of now cold pizza and to refill his glass with more whiskey, and pointedly studied Neil during the start of the movie. His face was a blank mask during the first major fight scene, and his hand stilled in petting the grey cat when the young girl showed up, when there was talk about vengeance for her murdered mother. Andrew caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye and noticed how Dan was giving Neil a worried look just then, which made him wonder what that was about, but soon enough it was the hospital scene and he focused his attention back on the idiot as a distraction.

Neil appeared a bit disgusted by the scene, then sighed at another death; by that point he’d finished the liquor in his glass and was drinking straight from the bottle. Andrew blinked at that, considering that he hadn’t seen Neil eat anything all evening or at work earlier. All he did was drink while petting the cats on his lap and sighing in a dramatic manner now and then, seeming oblivious to Nicky flirting heavily with Erik and Matt and Dan snuggling together on the couch. To Andrew staring at him rather than watching some stupid movie.

The idiot’s silence lasted until the House of the Blue Leaves scene. _“Enough,”_ he groaned. “This is just… enough .” He gently pushed the cats onto the floor and stood up, his motion oddly fluid considering how much he’d drank. “I get it. _Fuck_ _,”_ he loudly proclaimed, which had Nicky gawking at him and Erik gasping as if shocked. “Fuck, fucker, motherfucker, dirty motherfucker, cocksucker, pussy, asshole, bastard, bitch – do I really need to know any more?”

“Oh sweetie, I think you’re missing the point to this,” Dan said as she scooted to the edge of the couch. “You’re supposed to be having fun, to be joining in and-“

“But I’m not,” Neil declared as he set what looked to be an empty bottle down on the table and grabbed a different one. “Why doesn’t anyone ever bother to ask me if I’m having fun? Instead you just drag me along and it-“ He huffed and shook his head. “I’m done,” he said as he spun around to leave the room, with the two cats serving as escorts as he stalked down the hallway.

Dan did some sighing of her own while Matt appeared upset, and Erik stood up. “Perhaps I’ll go speak to him,” the German offered, which made Nicky upset as well.

 _“_ _No_ _,”_ Andrew told him as he rose to his feet. “I’ll check on the idiot.” He remembered how Neil hadn’t been too happy to see Erik and didn’t want the man near him; he held Erik’s puzzled gaze with a cold one of his own as he set his empty glass down and grabbed the bottle of whiskey, then headed back to Neil’s room.

The door was open, yet he paused in the entrance and watched as Neil stood staring out the brazenly open windows, the room once more full of cats. “So do you Tourette’s syndrome or what?”

Neil spun around to face him, his hood down on his shoulder and his expression startled. “I… excuse me?”

“Tourette’s, you know.” Andrew rolled his eyes and leaned forward a little. “All the swearing.”

It took the idiot a moment to make the connection. “Ah, no, no disease like that.” He scoffed a little as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Just… you could say… a bit of a temper runs in the family.” For some reason, he didn’t seem happy about that.

“Could be worse, could be diabetes or drug addiction.” Andrew held up the whiskey bottle for a moment before he took a sip.

“I’m not too certain.” Neil’s expression grew haunted as he rubbed his left hand along his ribs; Andrew realized that he’d never seen the younger man less than fully clothed, that he was always dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. That he hadn’t even tried on the clothes that Nicky had picked out in the store that one night, hadn’t wanted to go into the changing rooms. Was Neil hiding something beneath the thin layer of cotton?

He went to step forward and found himself unable to move. “What the fuck?” He wasn’t _that_ _d_ runk yet, so why was his body refusing to cooperate?

“Ah, _come inside_ _,”_ Neil said in a rush as he sat down on the windowsill, and Andrew nearly stumbled forward as his body worked all of a sudden, as he took a step into the room. The whiskey sloshed around in the bottle as he all but fell to his knees, and he glared at Neil as if it was the idiot’s fault. As it was, several of the cats paused in grooming themselves or lifted their heads to stare at Andrew.

“Move it,” he told a fat white one, and got a quick hiss in return before it shifted to another spot on the bed, leaving him enough space to sit on the corner. “So someone in your family has anger issues, huh? Let me guess, your father?” Neil had made that comment about his dad not having much to do with him when he was little – when he was an infant. That implied that the man had done something to him when he _wasn’t_ an infant.

For a moment there was that weird shimmering effect around Neil again, and Andrew knew he hadn’t had that much to drink yet. What the hell was going on? Then Neil let out a slow breath as he wrapped his arms around his middle as if to hold in something, once more solid. “I don’t want to talk about him.” There was a sense of finality to the words that warned Andrew to back off of the subject – but it wasn’t a ‘no’. It most definitely wasn’t a ‘no’.

Andrew was beginning to wonder if Neil was in Oakland because his father _wasn’t_ _,_ but decided to drop the matter for the time being. He had more whiskey, which seemed to remind Neil of the bottle he’d brought along because the idiot had a few swallows from it as well.

“So, you have something against movies?”

Neil gave a slight shrug. “I just don’t have the time for them.” He paused to have something to drink and seemed to consider something. “It doesn’t seem like I’m missing much. What’s the fascination with explosions and killing people and having sex?”

“You are such an idiot,” Andrew announced before he had some more whiskey, while Neil frowned at him. Did he think that was all watching movies were about?

“Why? I honestly don’t understand. Explosions are very loud and it’s not that easy, making them happen as they appear in movies. They’re a lot more unpredictable, too. Killing people is messy and you can’t just run a sword through them like that, either.” Neil made a swiping motion with his left hand. “There’s the bones and ligaments and you have to take into account how the people are moving, and metal dulls and breaks. Plus, it’s messy, too, all the blood and bowels and bile, and- uhm, what?” He finally noticed the look that Andrew was giving him. “I don’t understand.”

So, back to the mental hospital theory, Andrew told himself. Probably the wing for the criminally insane at that. “And you know all of that how?”

Neil stared at him for a few seconds before he looked away while tugging up the hood of his pale grey shirt, which was his classic move of deflection. “Ah, I talk to a lot of… interesting people.”

“I’m sure you do,” Andrew said in a condescending tone. “I thought you said you didn’t go to any therapy.”

“I don’t,” Neil muttered as he held the bottle up to his chest. “I wouldn’t even… I thought we were talking about movies.”

This definitely went up there as one of the weirdest conversations in Andrew’s life, which was saying something. “I thought you were _complaining_ about movies,” he clarified, well aware how the deflection game went considering all his time spent in therapy and living with Bee. “As your friend told you, they’re not real. That’s the point of them, they’re not real so it’s just a bunch of lies for a couple of hours.” A bunch of stupid fantasies like a happily ever after, of loving families and adoring parents and a perfect soulmate and a bunch of other bullshit.

“But people believe it,” Neil complained. “They believe in lies more than they do what is real.”

There was little Andrew could say to that, considering his own life. Considering how so many of the people in his life had ignored the bruises on him and the way he’d flinched from their touches, hadn’t believed the ‘stories’ he or the other children had told the few times they’d tried to speak up. “So that’s why you don’t like them, because they’re lies? You don’t like lies?”

Neil seemed to stare at nothing for a few seconds. “Some lies are necessary,” he said. “But I don’t see the point in what we just watched, no.”

“Fair enough,” Andrew agreed. He didn’t know if he agreed with that ‘some lies were necessary’ line, but yes, there had been little point in the last couple of hours other than learning one or two things about a certain idiot. “So what the hell do you do with yourself if you don’t date and you don’t watch movies?” He motioned to the mostly empty room around him. “Run a halfway house for cats and research obscure statistics?”

“Ah, excuse me?” Neil frowned as if trying to figure out what Andrew was talking about. “Do with myself?”

Maybe the alcohol was catching up with Neil after all. “What do you do when you’re not failing at making drinks?” Andrew asked. “Or running around Europe.”

“Oh.” Neil bit at his bottom lip as he once more seemed to stare at nothing. “I just… am me?”

Andrew stared at him for that then ran his left hand through his hair. “And what are you, other than an oblivious idiot?”

“I’m not a rude, lazy _bastard_ _,_ I can tell you that much,” Neil snapped as he looked directly at Andrew once more, which Andrew considered a win in his book for some odd reason.

“What happened to ‘guttersnipe’?” Andrew asked as he leaned back to rest against the wall, which earned him a few more hisses which he ignored. Seriously, what was it with the cats?

Neil cocked his head to the side as he regarded Andrew for a moment. “Upon consideration, I think it was an insult to guttersnipes.”

“Oh, how cute,” Andrew drawled, amused despite himself; somehow, Neil could do that with him. “Someone gets feisty when they drink, don’t they?”

“No?” Neil held up the bottle then shook his head. “I’m just… I don’t really know, to be honest.” He frowned as he set the bottle down on the windowsill, his expression confused once again. “Why I talk to you.”

Now it was Andrew’s turn to frown. “What?” Was that an insult?

“I don’t usually talk.” Neil reached down to pick up the grey cat curled up at his feet. “No one wants to talk to me. People, I mean.”

That didn’t make any sense – yes, Neil was an idiot, but he was an attractive idiot. Andrew could imagine that people would want to chat him up until they at least found out that they weren’t going to get anywhere with him.

Things were quiet for a few minutes after that, during which Neil pet the purring cat and Andrew glanced around the bedroom and noted that it didn’t appear any different from the other night when he’d stopped by except for the cats; someone believed in a very Spartan decorating style, it seemed.  There was the sound of voices out in the apartment, of Nicky’s laughter and Matt saying something, which made him frown as he remembered part of the reason he’d come that night. “So, about that Erik.”

“Hmm?” Neil looked over at Andrew. “What about him?”

“He dating anyone?”

Neil gave Andrew a perplexed look at the question. “Why would I know his personal life like that?”

Andrew wondered if he could make everyone believe that Neil fell out of the window on ‘accident’. “Is he the type to cheat on someone? To be an asshole while dating someone?” Was he going to fuck around on Nicky and need a new liver as a result?

“I would still say that it’s a very personal- I’m getting very tired of that look,” Neil grumbled as he narrowed his eyes at Andrew. “Fine, I would say that no, he’s not the type to cheat. He is… he’s ‘good’,” Neil repeated again. “Honorable.”

‘Honorable’. Well, Andrew would be the judge to that, if things led to more than Nicky’s usual one night stand routine. He had to admit that he didn’t normally see his cousin put so much effort into his conquests as he’d observed so far that night, so he’d keep an eye out on Erik, would be the judge of how ‘good’ the German really was. Because Andrew didn’t know that many ‘good’ people in his life. “If he’s so ‘good’ and ‘honorable’, why does he bother you?”

Neil once more took to tugging on his hood before he answered the question. “Because he has the mistaken belief that I need to be watched over, that I need to be… oh, I don’t know, ‘rescued’ or something. His people like lost causes and grand adventures, and for some reason he thinks that’s what I am.” There was something sharp to his words just then, an angry bite that made it clear he felt that Erik’s beliefs were ridiculous.

Meanwhile, Andrew had to wonder if Erik wasn’t right in some regard. “Seems to me that he’s not the only one.” Considering how Dan and Matt watched over the idiot, at the least.

Neil surged to his feet, and Andrew thought that the blue eyes flared quicksilver for a moment, that the bright color took over until the pupils and irises and sclera were covered by the gleaming light. “I am not _helpless_ ,” Neil snarled as his voice echoed through the room, the cats still in their various spots on the bed and floor. “I am _fine_ , I can stand on my own and I do not need _anyone_. I am-“ He let out a shuddering breath and ducked his head. “I’m fine,” he repeated.

Andrew was certain that Bee and Dr. Shahin would have a lot to say about someone insisting so much on being ‘fine’, on not needing any help. He took in Neil standing in front of him while hiding behind his hoods and long sleeves, considered the idiot’s inability to spend more than a couple of hours in the company of people unless forced to do so for work. His inability to have a normal conversation and grasp common concepts.

All right, so the whole ‘mental hospital’ thing was a joke, and a poor one at that. Yet Andrew had to wonder if Neil hadn’t been locked up one way or another as a child, had been deprived of some sort of contact or exposure for him to be so clueless about things. He once again wondered about the teen’s absent parents and why Neil was here in the company of friends who seemed to so determined to look after the idiot.

“Yeah, you seem perfectly _fine_ to me,” Andrew scoffed before he had some more whiskey.

“I don’t… why is this happening to me?” Neil asked as he sat back down on the windowsill. “I swear I never intentionally offended the Fates.” He seemed to be talking to the cat at that point, and it meowed back at him. “No, I make sure not to slander them or anything.” It meowed again. “Yes, I thought about a sacrifice, but _someone_ seems to object.” He gave Andrew another narrowed look while the cat made a rumbling sound. “Hmm, I had thought a goat, but if I do go with the swans, I’ll be sure to let you and your friends know.” All of a sudden, the numerous cats started to purr.

Not only was Neil an idiot, but he was insane as well, and Andrew wasn’t too certain about being in a roomful of weird cats for much longer.

“I am _not_ drunk enough for this shit, and you are not sacrificing any animals,” he told Neil. “It’s animal cruelty, which I’d think you’d be against considering all these fucking cats. Now come on, you’re treating me to something to eat.” He was hungry and wanted something other than cold pizza.

“But-“

“No, food,” Andrew insisted as he got up from the bed and dodged cats so he could tug on the front of Neil’s shirt. “Come on, let’s see if you know about empanadas.”

“Why are you like this?” Neil asked as he resisted for a moment, at least until he realized that his shirt was being pulled from his chest – that Andrew could catch a glimpse of the skin beneath the soft material. The skin bearing pale scars snaking down from his sharp collarbones, what looked to be ragged lines carved into his body by knifes. Too many ragged lines on the little bit of skin that Andrew could see.

“What the _fuck_?” Andrew asked, his voice hoarse with shock and rage. Who had done that to Neil? _How_ could they have done that? How could someone-

Before he could finish that thought, the grey cat was shoved into his arms and then Neil was – Neil was gone. One moment he was there and then he was gone, there was a quick shimmer and Andrew was left with pure shock and a cat scrambling to be set down and an empty windowsill. “The _fuck_ ,” he whispered as he let the cat jump out of his arms, certain that he wasn’t drunk enough to blank out while Neil slipped out the fire escape again. No way in hell. So how the fuck had the idiot vanished into thin air like that.

Maybe he hadn’t imagined the shimmering the previous times. Hadn’t imagined those flashes of silver in Neil’s eyes. But what the hell did it all mean?

What was Neil?

Andrew had several more swallows of whiskey before he went back into the living room, where he found Nicky making out with Erik (not that big of a surprise) while Dan and Matt watched the second Kill Bill movie. Dan paused it while Matt seemed to be looking behind Andrew as if waiting to see if Neil was following him.

“Don’t bother,” Andrew told him. “He _disappeared_.”

“Wait, what?” When Andrew just stared at the man, Matt cursed while Dan gave Andrew an appraising look. “You mean he’s gone.”

“Yeah, just _vanished_ into thin air,” Andrew said, which made Matt curse some more and Dan give a quick glance in Nicky’s direction, as if to make it clear that she didn’t want too much said in front of Andrew’s cousin. Somehow, Andrew wasn’t surprised that Neil’s friends knew about his special talent; it explained what had happened the one day at work, why Matt hadn’t been worried about Neil disappearing like that from the store room.

“Drinking always makes me hungry,” Dan said as she picked up an empty pizza box, then glanced again at Nicky and Erik who were still kissing each other as if connected at the lips. “Right.” She nodded toward the kitchen, and Matt was quick to follow her.

Andrew huffed as he watched his cousin for another minute. “Keep your damn clothes on or I’m hosing you down,” he warned Nicky, which got him a rude gesture, but at least Nicky seemed to be keeping things more or less from getting too explicit for once. Or maybe it was Erik being ‘honorable’, since he grabbed at Nicky’s wandering hands and held them right before Andrew walked away.

Dan was busy in the kitchen fetching something out of the freezer that looked like some sort of appetizer, while Matt leaned against the counter and shook his head and muttered to her in some odd language. He fell quiet when Andrew entered the small room, and Dan gave Andrew another considering look. “Why did Neil vanish?”

Andrew paused to have some more whiskey before he answered the question, because while he wasn’t _that_ drunk yet, he felt like he should be. “I find it interesting that you’re not asking _how_ Neil vanished.”

Dan was still for a moment while Matt’s expression could only be described as ‘oh shit’, and then she set the box of appetizers aside as she approached Andrew; he thought her brown eyes darkened for a moment, but he couldn’t be certain. “Tell me why my friend vanished or people will be wondering where _you’ve_ gone off to next.”

He set the bottle of whiskey aside so he could go for his knives without any problem. “Is that a threat?” He didn’t like threats unless he was making them, because then they were promises.

“I take watching over Neil very seriously,” Dan told him in way of an answer. “It’s me letting you know that I will not allow you to harm him in _any_ manner, that I swear on my name and aspect.” Behind her, Matt inhaled sharply for some reason.

Huh, that was an odd oath, but Andrew knew the woman was serious from the gleam in her dark eyes and the way she stared at him, with serious intent. “I caught sight of his scars,” Andrew said. “On accident,” since now Matt was glaring at him, too, with a slightly offended air.

“I see.” Dan exchanged a look with Matt then went to the oven to pull out a tray before turning it on, her demeanor slightly less homicidal than before. “You know if you say anything, people will just think you’re crazy.”

“Yep, we’ll tell everyone about how you were drinking too much,” Matt added as he folded his arms over his chest and gave Andrew a cold smile. “Your word against ours.”

“And it’s not like we even have to stay here,” Dan added as she dumped the contents of the box onto the tray. “Not if people are going to _lie_ about us.”

Weren’t the two just so damn amusing? Andrew pushed down the urge to stab them to get them to shut up. “Whatever. Who the hell did that to him?” When all the two morons did were stare at him, he motioned to his upper chest. “Who hurt him?”

Dan glanced at Matt for a moment and both were quiet as she put the appetizers in the oven; once she was done, she went over to stand near her boyfriend. “A very bad man,” was all she said.

No, really? Here Andrew thought a good Samaritan had felt that Neil needed some unusual body art or other lame shit like that to make him more interesting. So, Dan mentioned a ‘very bad man’ and Neil didn’t want to talk about his father. What were the odds that they were one and the same?

Dammit, why did Neil become even more intriguing the more Andrew knew about him? Even more of an irresistible puzzle? Andrew tried to think of how Neil could disappear like that – was it magic, a mutation or… what? “What is he?”

“Nope, sorry, don’t see an oracle around here to answer that one,” Dan said with a cheeky grin. “All you need to know is you don’t mess with him. _Ever_.”

Andrew gave her a displeased look while he pulled out his phone to request a ride back home, done with the woman’s attitude and everything else for the night. “Your parties suck. Also, tell your idiot roommate that if he tries to sacrifice anything other than a stick of incense, I will kick his ass.”

Matt cringed at the comment while Dan gave him an annoyed look. “I don’t get you people – you eat meat and wear leather but you complain about something like that?”

“It’s not the same,” Andrew argued. “You’re talking about killing animals for something stupid, for beliefs.”

“Faith isn’t stupid,” Dan snapped, that darkness seeping into her eyes again.

“Faith gets people killed.” Andrew felt like he was talking to Natalie, of all people, which was annoying. “Lots of people have died because of someone’s faith.”

“No, people have died because of other _people_ ,” Neil said, surprising all three of them. “Because people have taken faith and twisted it to their own purposes, their own cause.”

Andrew spun around to find Neil standing a couple of feet away, his clothes different now; they were bigger on his lean frame, were loose and dark and his feet were bare. In his hand was a paper bag containing something that smelled incredible, smelled spicy and fried, which he held out to Andrew. “Uhm, for you.” It was impossible to see much of the idiot’s face other than his chin and his mouth because of the voluminous hood of his dark grey shirt, but it looked as if he was a bit flushed.

Surprised by the offering, Andrew accepted the bag and opened it, to find that it contained what looked to be about half a dozen of freshly made empanadas – empanadas that _weren’t_ from the shop down the street, judging from the Spanish on the bag and the unfamiliar logo. At least, he thought it was Spanish. “Where did you get these?” he asked as he looked up at Neil, only to find that the idiot had vanished again. He narrowed his eyes as he picked out one of the empanadas and broke off a piece after setting the bag on the counter, and enjoyed a bite of the spicy filling with the flaky pastry, of the mix of flavors after all those years of bland, cheap food that his foster families had barely fed him. “I’m putting a collar and leash on him,” he informed Dan and Matt.

That earned him a glower from Dan, while Matt looked at the bag of food with an almost rueful grin. “Hmm, that’s a first.”

When Andrew stared at the man for some sort of explanation, Matt’s grin strengthened. “He never fetched _us_ any food.”

What did that have to do with anything?

“Remember, no harm,” Dan repeated while Andrew ate his delicious empanada. They had a stare-off with each other until his phone beeped to let him know that the Uber driver was almost there.

After grabbing his food, he went to pry Nicky off of Erik so they could go home, to a place with no weird shit and no gorgeous idiots who could magic themselves away with a mere thought.

*******

Death tugged on the hood of his shirt while he waited for Andrew to arrive at the Laughing Fox; he didn’t know why he’d acted like he had last night, why he’d given in to the impulse to flee after Andrew had seen the scars – the marks that were the reminders of his last hours as Abram, of what his father and Deception had done to him. As a Named One, as _Death_ , he healed without a mark from any wounds that were inflicted upon him, but those had been from _before_ , from another Named One.

Some days Death hated each curving raised line left on his body with a passion, some days he traced over them as a reminder of why he would continue on despite the passage of time, of the loneliness and the confusion and the weariness, just so he could look his father in the eyes as the bastard’s time came to an end and put to good use some of those insults he’d learned over the millennia.

“Slacking off already?”

Death jerked at the sound of Andrew’s voice and found the mortal standing a few feet away, along with a smiling Nicky. “Uhm….”

“So, Erik,” Nicky said before Death could figure out what he wanted to talk about, or _not_ talk about. “We’re going out tonight and I want to know what I should wear. Do you think leather pants are too much or not enough?” He held up his phone to show himself posing in something that appeared too small and tight.

“Ah, I don’t… what?” Death asked as he stared at Andrew in hopes of some sort of help. “Too much what?” Why was he being asked such a thing?

Nicky sighed and swiped to show him another picture that wasn’t much better than the first one. “I’m trying to make a good impression here, Neil. I want to strike that fine line of ‘sexy as a mofo yet classy as fuck’. You know, something to leave him wanting more?”

“More what?” Why did he never understand what Nicky was talking about?

“More of me!”

“Why would he want more of you?” Now Death was thoroughly confused, and Andrew leaned against the counter to watch the two of them as if enthralled. “There’s only so much of you in a finite sense, unless you want to discuss multiple universes.”

“I mean in a sexual nature,” Nicky enunciated each word while doing that whole weird staring thing at Death.

Oh, _that_. Death sighed as he checked to see if there were any drinks needing to be made. “Why are you asking me? I don’t know anything about that stuff.” He dismissed Nicky with a wave and looked in the fridge near the espresso machine to make sure that Emilio had stocked it – if not, then someone was going to find out that it wasn’t just witches who knew a few interesting curses.

Dammit, he wasn’t allowed to do anything to the employees, he just remembered.

Did that include their modes of transportation? Maybe he could rot the tires on the lazy rapscallion’s car….

“Oh. My. God. You did _not_ just say that,” Nicky babbled. “You have to know _something_ about sex, right?” he demanded as he leaned in much too close for Death’s comfort as he made a jerking motion with his right hand. “Even if you’re in denial about everything.”

“ _Nicky_ ,” Andrew called out, his tone flat and his expression no longer slightly amused.

While Nicky flinched, Death frowned at the annoying man and gave him a gentle push away. “I know the mechanics of it, I just don’t know why people bother.” It was messy and a waste of time in his opinion, and caused so many problems. All for what? Well, to continue the population, he supposed, but mitosis was a much better option.

“Why I bother-“ Nicky gasped again and shook his head. “Look, maybe you just need someone to-“

“ _Nicky!_ ” Now Andrew sounded angry, and Nicky was quick to take a step back.

“Gonna clean the tables,” Nicky called out as he made a hasty retreat to the front part of the store, where Compassion was already doing that. Death watched him for a couple of seconds and then looked at Andrew, whose expression was blank once more.

“Ah, thank you?” he told Andrew before he headed back to the cooler for some milk, and was a bit surprised to see Andrew follow him.

“Don’t let Nicky bug you about that shit. If you don’t like something, it’s fine.”

“But it’s not that I don’t like sex, I just….” Death shrugged before he opened the door to the walk-in cooler. “I just have no interest in it.” He never felt the impulse to engage in it, and very few people seemed attracted to him, considering what he was.

Andrew watched as he picked up a couple of gallons of milk, as always no help, his expression inscrutable. “Never at all?”

“No,” Death confessed. “Not that it matters, because who would want me?” Other than a Named One or a god interested in gaining power, which did nothing to make him _want_ them.

Now Andrew appeared in pain for some reason. “Your stupidity truly knows no bounds,” he proclaimed before he walked out on Death.

Puzzled by that statement, Death was left with the task of restocking things himself, at least until Compassion helped him out, while Andrew abased himself on the pastries in the display cases. Death had some unkind thoughts about the glutton, but in the end was grateful that Andrew didn’t ask anything about how he’d disappeared the night before, not once but _twice_.

It had been bad enough talking to Compassion and Courage about his actions, hearing about how Courage had warned the mortal not to say anything and Compassion go on about Death’s impulse to retrieve the food for Andrew as if there had been some meaning to the action. He didn’t quite understand that himself, just that he’d felt so… so odd at leaving Andrew like that, at running away, and so had wanted to do _something_. Had felt driven to make some sort of amends because there had been a surprising pain to the thought that maybe he’d ruined things, had messed up this foolish attempt to study humanity by fleeing, and all he could think about was some sort of appeasement, of giving Andrew the food he’d wanted when he’d tried to pull Death away.

Oddly enough, it seemed to have worked because no one was pointing fingers at Death, was talking about his ‘ability’, except now Andrew was upset at him for something else. Something to do with Nicky’s ‘sex’ talk. Death sighed as he worked on the drink orders now that the coffee shop was busy, and nearly jumped when Andrew came over to snatch at the peppermint chocolate latte he’d just made.

“Wrong, make another.”

Relieved that the human was speaking to him, Death smiled as he grabbed a clean cup. “ _Ska_ … ah, asshole.”

Once again there was an inscrutable expression on Andrew’s face, and then he clicked his tongue. “I don’t care what your idiot roommate says, stick to your Mennonite curses.”

“Eh?” Death blinked in confusion at that, until Andrew clicked his tongue again and tapped the display screen in an unsubtle hint for him to make the drinks. “Pretentious git.”

“And there we go. As long as you don’t call me a chicken again, I won’t punch you in the mouth.” Andrew paused to sip his drink. “So you know German?”

Dammit, Death really hated the no lying thing, and didn’t see a way around it since Erezekiel was in town. “Yes.”

His answer made Andrew’s eyes narrow, probably because of the time the mortal and Nicky had spoken in German. “How many languages do you know?”

“More than you,” Death hedged, unwilling to admit that he could speak every language, living and dead.

That answer seemed to displease Andrew, since he went back to giving Death a cold look and being quiet. Death didn’t understand what the human was thinking, why he kept pressing for answers, and focused on working for the next hour or so as people came in for their afternoon drinks, merely sighing whenever Andrew stole the occasional beverage.

It slowed down a little before the end of their shift, and Death could hear Nicky chatting with Compassion about his upcoming date with Erezekiel. Feeling the weight of Andrew’s gaze upon him, Death cleaned the counter around the espresso machines and attempted to keep himself busy, unwilling to deal with Nicky’s questions or Andrew’s… he wasn’t sure what it was, with Andrew. He enjoyed spending time with the mortal for some strange reason, yet there was a weird anxiety he couldn’t place when Andrew pressed him for answers, when he realized that Andrew might figure out what he was.

He wasn’t ashamed of being Death, but when Andrew found out the truth it would end all of this – whatever it was. No mortal wanted anything to do with him when they realized what he was; that bit of divinity within Andrew which shielded him from the worst of Death’s true nature wouldn’t do anything at that moment of revelation. Andrew would look at him and turn away in terror and disgust at last.

What was it that Tisiphone wanted Death to see? That no matter how much divinity within them, that mortals still weren’t meant for their world? That there was only so much of a gap that could be bridged between mortals and immortals? That rage and light gave way to death and darkness in the end?

That he was wise to keep to himself, to not grow attached to these gadflies since they would only repudiate him in the end?

He blinked when a cup of tea and some sort of biscuit was put down on the counter he’d just wiped clean. “Here, eat something. I think part of your stupidity is born out of low blood sugar or something,” Andrew complained.

“But I don’t-“

“Eat,” Andrew commanded, sounding a lot like Wrath at the moment; his pale brows were drawn over his hazel eyes and his hands were fisted over his hips. “Or I’ll shove the damn scone down your throat.”

“Oh.” Death leaned against the counter and picked up the biscuit – a scone, apparently, and took a bite. It wasn’t too sweet, which was good, and had cranberries in it. He liked cranberries, though it had been a few years since he’d had any. Andrew watched the entire time while he ate, then nodded once the snack was gone and Death picked up the cup of Irish Breakfast tea. “Thank you.”

“Whatever.” Andrew leaned against the counter near him; his shoulder brushed against Death’s left arm and produced an odd tingling sensation wherever their two bodies touched. “Those empanadas were good.”

“Ah.” Death gave a nervous tug to his bangs and hoped that Andrew didn’t ask him too much about the snacks, about how he’d- he drew in a sharp breath as he felt a wash of power and pushed away from the counter as a  Virtue walked into the coffee shop, a Virtue he knew reasonably well.

Compassion stiffened as well as Temperance headed straight for Death, a determined expression on his face. “ _So it’s true_ ,” he said in French. “ _You are living as a mortal_.”

“ _What are you doing here_?” Death asked as he approached the counter. “ _How did you find me_?” This was getting ridiculous – Abigail and Janus he could understand because of them already living in the city, and Erezekiel had been passing through on his way to Vancouver when he had sensed Courage. But _another_ Virtue? Death was doing his best to mask his power, to hide himself, but apparently it wasn’t working very well. That… that wasn’t good.

Temperance waved his right hand in the air for a moment, his gaze never leaving Death’s face the entire while. “ _I ran into Bastet and she had the most interesting story to tell me, one about her sister suspecting that you were in town for some reason_.” He finally glanced away, and that was at Andrew.  
“ _I had to come see if it was true, if you were playing at some silly game_.”

“ _It’s not a game,_ ” Death gritted out. “ _And it’s none of your business_.” He respected Temperance because the man was an exemplary Virtue; he was prudence personified and exuded self-restraint, calmness and self-control. There were times when Death felt too- when he was too much of his father’s son and so sought out Temperance, sought out some of that calmness and control much like he had when he’d been Abram, even if he didn’t trust the current Virtue like he had his uncle, not entirely.

This Temperance wasn’t the one who had taken on the Virtue when his uncle had become Wrath, after all. No, that woman had held it for over a millennia before passing it on to a young Frenchman. Death had been there for her ending, but since she was a Named One he didn’t absorb her memories; he was Death and she had been Temperance, and some things were to be separate. But he’d been there for her, and she had told him ‘sorry’ before fading away.

That had always puzzled him, as had this Temperance’s attempts to keep an eye on him, to seemingly befriend him. What was most worrisome was Temperance’s defense of Deception, the few times Death spoke out against the other Named One.

There was no defending Deception in Death’s mind. He didn’t care if some of the Named Ones felt that Deception was just doing his job of lies and betrayals, not when Deception had tried to bend the rules, had managed to do just that somewhat in the end. He had cost Abram his mother, had tortured Abram and attempted to make him a slave.

“ _I don’t see why not, when another of my kind is here_ ,” Temperance said with a sniff while he glanced at Compassion. “ _If you are so desperate for company, you shouldn’t be reduced to slumming_.”

“ _I am not slumming_ ,” Death said. _“And I don’t see why you are here. I’m certain there are some politicians you can try to inspire right now, yes_? _You should be working harder, not worrying about me_.”

Temperance didn’t appear to appreciate the jab about his work ethic. “ _You shouldn’t be_ -“

“Is the Frenchie going to order or what?” Andrew asked as he gave Temperance a cold look, his arms crossed over his chest. “Oi, Valjean, this is a coffee shop so buy something or leave.”

Temperance gave Andrew a dissatisfied look in return – he wasn’t one of the Virtues who thought much of humans. “Don’t interrupt your betters.”

Now there was a slight smile on Andrew’s face. “I’ll take that as a ‘no’.” He rested his fists on the counter, and Death felt a slight flickering of the mortal’s divine aspect, of the rage and protective fire inside of him. “If you’re not going to buy something, _fuck off_.”

Temperance didn’t seem to have picked up on that spark of Apollo’s fire and continued to look at Andrew with disdain. “I am not talking to you, so be quiet.” He returned his attention to Death. “ _It’s annoying here, so come with me._ ”

“No,” Death told him in English.

“ _Why not_?” Temperance appeared confused with his denial.

“I’m working, go away.” Death went to turn around, and felt fingers brush against his shoulder – along with a flare of that fire. He turned back to find that Andrew had latched on to Temperance’s right arm, which had reached out as if to grab onto Death. The Virtue was staring in surprise at Andrew, who was giving him an almost manic grin in return.

“He said ‘go away’.” Despite the smile, Andrew’s voice was flat. “So go away.”

Temperance made a sound of pain as Andrew’s fingers tightened around his wrist. “What are you?”

“Andrew, please let him go.”

For some reason, the smile was wiped from Andrew’s face. “I don’t like that word.” Temperance let out another whimper as Andrew’s fingers tightened on his wrist.

“Ah, what word?” Death was confused yet again.

“ _Please_.”

Death was a heartbeat away from slipping _between_ , but he forced himself to remain in the coffee shop before Andrew did something disastrous. “All right. Would you kindly let him go?”

Andrew seemed to consider the request, while Nicky and Matt stood off to the side with distraught expressions on their faces and even a couple of customers were staring from their seats in the front area. “Fine,” he sighed as he released Temperance. “But he keeps his hands to himself from now on or I’m cutting them off the next time.”

“ _Is he_ -“

“ _Leave him alone_ ,” Death warned the Virtue. “ _And just go_.”

Temperance gave him an appraising look for a couple of seconds then turned it on Andrew, but left the shop with his right arm cradled to his chest. Death had a bad feeling all of a sudden, and ran his right hand through his hair while he thought about how nice and peaceful and quiet it was _between_.

“So, you know that asshole?” Andrew asked when Death went back to pick up his cup of tea.

“Yes,” Death answered, unwilling to explain further.

“Friend?”

“Not really.”

Andrew stared at him while he sipped the tea. “Is he going to be trouble?”

Death sighed at that. “I don’t know.” He was more powerful than Temperance… but he didn’t like the Virtue showing up like that and asking questions. Where was Tisiphone? Was she keeping an eye on his father, like she’d promised? He would have to pay her another visit soon.

Andrew settled next to him, and Death told himself it must be that spark of Apollo’s fire inside of the mortal that made his skin tingle from where their shoulder and arm touched against the other.

*******

Andrew pulled up a new search on his laptop, homework done for the week and Nicky out for the night - he didn’t know about ‘good’ but Erik did indeed seem ‘honorable’ in that he’d come to the house to introduce himself to Bee and ask her permission to take Nicky out on a date. Bee had been smiling the whole time, clearly amused as hell but also pleased for Nicky, and there were flowers in the kitchen. _Flowers_. One bouquet for Nicky and one for Bee ‘as the lady of the house’. Andrew didn’t know if Erik was just smooth as fuck or some reject out of time like Neil, but if it was the first, he had some options lined up on where to bury the German’s body when the lying bastard broke Nicky’s heart. He’d never seen his cousin fall so hard before for someone, and he wasn’t going to let some foreign asshole play the pest.

First things first, though, now that he wasn’t drunk and tired. He did several internet searches on teleportation, not that he had much hopes on finding anything since it was such a huge, general search. There was the scientific aspect of it (quantum physics, machines, the government lying as always, blah blah blah). There was also the belief that humans could teleport themselves (or would within a few generations), that there had been secret experiments involved to modify humans (more blah blah blah). There were also spells out there that seemed ridiculous (and basically were along the lines of astral projection, so again, blah blah blah). In other words, Andrew didn’t come up with much after wasting some time on it all. If anything, he was leaning towards the human experimenting, which might explain Neil’s scars and weird behavior – the idiot might have grown up in a lab as a test subject.

Or the idiot wasn’t human.

Andrew liked to believe that he didn’t conform to conventional thinking, that he could look at things and come up with his own conclusions even if they didn’t fit the ‘normal’ rationale. So what did Andrew know about Neil so far?

Neil knew a lot of languages. He didn’t seem to need to eat a lot. He could drink a lot without becoming obviously intoxicated. He could vanish into the thin air. His eyes did some weird silver thing. His age was undetermined, but he knew a lot of weird old shit. He knew a lot of weird shit yet not a lot of common stuff. He liked to hide behind hoods and seemed to have some nasty scars. His mother was probably dead, his father an abusive bastard. He liked cats. He was a gorgeous idiot who needed to be looked after by people.

Okay, maybe that last one wasn’t that important.

Andrew tried a search on ‘mythological redheads’ and mostly came up with women for some reason, and none of the men really fit Neil. He was rather certain that Neil wasn’t a vampire, though maybe then the whole ‘sacrifice’ thing made sense… no. Perhaps an angel? Andrew thought about the swearing fits and had his doubts.

There was the whole ‘hood’ thing, which pointed to death. Something to consider since Neil did seem a bit morbid with his death statistics and ‘that’s not how you kill a person with a sword’ talk and all. Andrew paused to think about it a little more. Were there such things as angels of death? The internet seemed divided on that, with one big angel and then the possibility of multiple angels tasked with the duty. Was Neil perhaps some sort of being (he really had his doubts on the whole ‘angel’ thing) responsible for death?

Or, more realistically, some genetically modified kid who had his life fucked up to the point where he thought he was some sort of angel of death?

And what was Dan and Matt? What about Erik? Who was the guy who had come into the shop today, the young man with the black hair, blue eyes and French accent who had looked at Neil as if he was the only person who had mattered? Who was of any importance?

Andrew liked puzzles because they gave his mind something to focus on, something that wasn’t his past or his demons. But Neil? Oh, the puzzle that was Neil was turning into some massive Gordian knot, and Andrew wasn’t sure he had any blades sharp enough to cut it in half. It would take all of his wits to figure out the tangled threads appearing before him, the ropes binding him to one gorgeous idiot.

He couldn’t help but wonder if Neil might know about the winged woman in his dreams. If Neil was the reason why his dream had changed.

If that was the case… he wasn’t walking away from this, and he wasn’t letting Neil vanish, either. He wanted answers and he wasn’t going to let Dan scare him away or Neil keep on with the evasive half-truths for much longer.

He was going to find out the truth no matter what it cost him.

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *******  
> And another character appears! Hmm, I wonder what that'll lead to, yes?
> 
> As always, thanks so much for the comments and kudos!  
> *******


	7. Death Accepts A Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another familiar face shows up. You know it had to happen sooner or later....  
> *******

*******

Death slipped _between_ and followed the one particular 'ending' to Tisiphone, and appeared in what looked to be a living room in a house on the outskirts of Alberta, where a small child was huddled not far from her unconscious mother sprawled out on the carpeted floor. He would be taking the woman soon, and Tisiphone was... she was 'occupied' with the girl's father across the room filled with leather sofas and metal tables, had her wings out and all masks gone, her fangs and claws stained bright with blood, almost as bright a gleaming red as her eyes.

He crouched down by the young girl huddled in her torn nightgown and covered with bruises fresh and old, who stared at Tisiphone with brown eyes wide with an amount of adoration and conviction he hadn't seen in _years_ , since there had temples littering the countryside with eternal fires burning to dispel the darkness and fervent voices constantly singing until the melody sunk into one's bones. "She's _beautiful_ ," the girl whispered to him.

"Yes, she is," he agreed, and after a moment of noticing how she was shivering, he slipped back _between_ for a moment and returned with another hoodie to give to the girl, which she accepted with an absent smile, her attention never wavering from Tisiphone and what the Fury was doing to the child's father, from the screams and the sounds of rending flesh and breaking bones.

When Tisiphone was finally done she flexed her wings, the feathers singing their beautiful, terrible song of rage and loss and pain and revenge, and tossed her head back to scream, the awful sound echoing through the house - it was a release, that scream, a signal that 'justice', such as it could ever be for a Fury's own, had been delivered. The only type of justice that was found in destroying your destroyer, in taking your comfort in moving forward with the knowledge that you had utterly torn apart the person who had hurt you so very much in body, mind and soul.

Then she turned around to face them, eyes still aflame and hair dripping blood, razor fangs bared and claws clicking together, yet so beautiful and peaceful all the same. Death rose to his feet and gave her a respectful nod as he went to do his job, and left the girl to the Fury.

Michael Justin Gallagher, age thirty-eight, death by Fury. He eyed the shade of the man with disgust as it huddled before him, still in shock with what happened. "But... how is that possible?" Gallagher asked. "I'm dreaming, aren't I?"

"Go," Death told him, unwilling to speak to him, to have anything to do with him.

"This can't-"

" _GO_." Death waved at the shade, and Gallagher disappeared, well and truly ended. Death waited another few minutes and collected the man's wife, Rebecca Louise, with a bit more patience, and by that point Tisiphone had placed a slight sleeping spell on the child and was ready to depart.

They left the house through the back door, which Tisiphone ripped from its hinges, then slipped _between_ to return to Aglaia's place. The Grace grimaced to see the Fury in such a condition but just motioned behind her. "You know where the shower is, try not to get blood all over the place. So glad I went with the marble floors, I swear."

Tisiphone smiled at the griping, and Death blinked when the Fury leaned in to give Aglaia a quick kiss on the cheek before going to clean up. At his curious look, Aglaia arched an elegant eyebrow and smiled. "What?"

"I suppose that explains what a Fury is doing with a Grace," he said as he sat on the balcony wall overlooking the city. "Also, you have blood on your cheek now."

Aglaia grimaced again as she wiped at her right cheek. "I don't know if it's a good thing or what, how you just take all of this stuff in stride. It would be nice to get a proper reaction out of you some day." Her face now blood-free, she picked up a glass of what looked to be white wine and waved it about. "Though what's a big deal about a Fury and a Grace hanging out together? ‘Siphone's amazing."

"I'm not objecting." Death toyed with the left cuff of his shirt. "Have you known her for a long time?"

"You could say that." Aglaia gave him a mysterious smile before she sipped her wine. "So, how's the special project coming along? You figure out that humanity thing yet?"

"Why, is there a test no one told me about?"

That earned him a laugh from the Grace. "And everyone thinks you don't have a sense of humor." Aglaia, dressed in a sleek, formfitting red dress that night with her golden hair pulled up in an elaborate tangle of loose curls, shook her head at him. "I'm hoping you'll learn a few things like a sense of fashion, maybe even figure out why the rest of us bother putting up with other people." She leaned toward him. "I know you say you're not interested in sex, but honestly, you feeling anything yet? Toward a guy? A girl? A blow-up doll?"

He leaned further away as a result, uncaring if it was over a fifty-story drop behind him, and was debating leaving when Tisiphone returned. "Aglaia, stop that. You don't pressure people on their preferences." The Fury was much less... messy now, dressed in a long skirt with a tank top and a loose sweater which slipped down her shoulders, all of them in soft pastel colors, her hair a shining white save for the red ends.

"But you know how big the pot is on him now," Aglaia complained before turning her attention back on Death. "Most of the Named Ones are in on it, and I have every intention of winning when you finally date something, even if it's a hydra."

Death gave her a cold look for several seconds before he looked at Tisiphone. "I think it's time for a new Splendor."

"You don't mean that," she told him, then sighed when he remained quiet rather than lie. "You wanted to see me for something? How's Andrew?"

"Where is my father?" he asked, unwilling to talk about Andrew just then.

Tisiphone frowned as she sat down next to the Grace. "He's been in a couple of places, but nowhere near you, I've made sure of that. Why?"

"Because Temperance came to the coffee shop today," he explained. "He wanted to talk to me and was rather insistent about it."

"I see." Tisiphone was quiet for several seconds as if taking that in. "Did you talk to him?"

Death shook his head. "I told him I didn't want to... and then Andrew stepped in." He watched her carefully for a reaction. "He seemed to be trying to protect me or something, and now Temperance has noticed him."

"Hmm, it does seem to be part of his nature," Tisiphone agreed, giving away nothing more than she ever had, unfortunately. "I'm watching Destruction, but I haven't seen Deception at all. The two haven't been known to associate lately, not since...." She hesitated for a moment while Death tugged on his hood.

"Not since they managed to turn that idiot son of Andraste into the new Despair," Aglaia said, her tone containing a bit too much carelessness for the topic; Death glared at her, but judging from the bitter twist to her lips, she knew about the lines she'd crossed just then. "What's that saying about it's not always a good thing, getting what you want?"

"’Laia, please be quiet," Tisiphone said, her voice a little more than a terrible whisper then. Yet the Grace merely sipped her wine while the Fury watched over Death. "It's not your fault."

He stirred at that and fought not to feel the scars covered by the soft cloth of his shirt. "I know." It was his father's - his father's and Deception's - but it still didn't feel good, knowing that they'd managed to more or less get what they wanted in the end, even if the new Despair was a broken shell of a thing.

"It just concerns me, that someone's sought me out when I’m doing my best to not be noticed," he confessed. "Someone tied to my father, no matter how remotely. You know what he could do to the humans at the shop, who are around me if he tracked me down." What he could do to Andrew, to the foolish mortal who thought he could stand between 'Neil' and a hand reaching out to hold him down or worse.

"I know, and I promise it won't come to that," Tisiphone swore with a hint of red in her eyes and bright white behind her lips.

"It won't," Death agreed as he felt the thrumming of his power in his bones. "I won't let him take anything else from me ever again, no matter the cost." No matter the Rules.

She fell quiet at that, along with Aglaia, at least for a long moment, and then the Grace rose to her feet in a smooth swaying movement that would have done a cobra proud. "There's not enough drinking going on, I do believe. Who's with me?" When he and Tisiphone remained quiet, she made a rude gesture. "I need to hang out with more Vices, you guys suck."

Tisiphone merely smiled at her, while Death shook his head. "Goodbye," he told the Fury, having dealt with Aglaia when she was in a 'drinking' mood before and deciding it was best to be elsewhere.

"Until our paths cross again," she bade him.

He allowed various endings to pull him along for a while, until it was morning back at the apartment. After giving the cats gathered in the small room some more food, he went out into the dwelling to find Compassion and Courage gathered around the one appliance in the kitchen.

"No, I think they're done now, they don't look so runny anymore,” Courage said as she shook her head, dressed in another one of Compassion’s tunics which showed off her long legs.

"Are you sure? I thought they were supposed to be hard," Compassion said as he poked at something in the pan in front of them.

"You're thinking of when they cook them in the shell," Courage told him. "Leave them alone."

"Uhm, don't believe him when it comes to food," Death warned. "He's not to be trusted."

Courage looked over her right shoulder to smile at him while she removed the pan from the stove. "I figured that out around the thirteenth century, but thanks."

"At least I try," Compassion said with an offended sniff as he folded his arms over his chest. "You don't even have a kitchen in your place."

"Because I don't need to eat, and if I want to, I can go anywhere for food," Death reminded his friend. "I also haven't had any fires at my place."

"It helps me redecorate now and then," Compassion argued. "Keeps me modern." Said the Virtue wearing a toga at the moment.

"Makes him get rid of the trash," Courage added. “Thank the Fates.”

"You're not helping," Compassion whined while swatting at her left hip, which made her laugh. "You're supposed to be on my side!" That only made her laugh some more.

Death left them to their... whatever, and went back to his room after ensuring that - he wasn't quite sure what, to be honest. He thought that living as a human (or mostly living as a human) was doing strange things to him, and spent part of the time before having to report at the coffee shop for ‘work’ searching the apartment building for any signs of spells or hexes.

He didn't find any, and Compassion dragged him off to the Laughing Fox before he could expand his search to the surrounding buildings. Once they arrived at the coffee shop, they found Janus waiting for them.

"The stock room again?" Death asked, wondering if the god wanted him to work back there rather than with the other employees.

"No, come into my office," Janus said while glancing around, and didn't wait for their response before heading back there with a grim expression on his face. As soon as they entered the disheveled room, he closed the door behind them and folded his arms over his chest while he leaned against it, the flame tattoos appearing to move for a moment. "Any idea why Temperance has been hanging out here all morning, scowling at my employees until Abby threatened to curse him bald?"

" _Tabarnaque, calisse de marde_ ," Death muttered.

"Exactly." Janus eyed him for a moment before sighing. "I didn't think there was any bad blood between the two of you. He's not strong enough to risk angering you, in the first place."

"No, there isn't, and no, he's not," Death agreed. "For the most part we've gotten along, but he was oddly insistent yesterday about me talking to him."

Janus seemed to think about something as he chewed on his right thumbnail. "Huh, that doesn't sound good. Abby seemed to smack him down today, but you know I can't let anything harm my people here."

"Hey! You think we're going to let that happen?" Compassion glared at the god while Death shook his head.

"I won't let it come to that."

"Good," Janus said after a few seconds' regard. "Not that I thought you would, but I wanted us to be clear on that." Then he let out a harsh breath and nodded. "But remember that you work here, too, so let me know if there's anything I can do to help. I'm just asking that you keep as much shit away from here as possible, I'm not kicking you morons to the curb just yet."

"You're just milking this free labor thing for as long as you can," Compassion grumbled, but he had relaxed a little and seemed happy.

"I'm just grateful for anything that keeps Dobson more or less under control," Janus said with a slight scoff. "Now get your asses to work, I don't not pay you to stand around and do nothing."

"That doesn't even make any sense," Compassion complained, but they left the god's office all the same, to find that Andrew and Nicky had clocked in and Andrew was standing in the hallway as if waiting for something.

The mortal gazed at Death for a moment and then walked away, his expression blank. Beside Death, Compassion was grinning about something once again, while Death was trying to figure out why he felt... hmm, he was content all of a sudden. It was the oddest thing.

"I believe I'm gaining some satisfaction in making humans something to drink," he told his friend as they headed behind the counter.

"Huh?" Compassion gave him an odd look. "Why do you say that?"

"Because I'm finding a sort of personal fulfillment from being here?" Death thought about it a little more. "No, it's a bit different than that. Hmm, this feeling... I don't think I've felt it before."

Compassion stared at him for a few seconds and then looked over at Andrew for some reason before giving Death a disappointed frown. "Of _course_ you're not getting it."

"Getting what?" Death asked as he cocked his head to the side, busy tucking back the lock of hair that had fallen into his eyes.

"Why don't we serve mead here?" Compassion whined instead of answering Death's question with a pained expression on his face. Before Death could follow his friend and get a better answer, Andrew called out his 'name'.

"Hey Neil, you know those drinks aren't going to make themselves."

"They have a better chance of doing that than of you making them, it seems," Death commented as he hurried over to the espresso machine, the feeling growing stronger inside of him. Yes, it had to be because of his new job, he decided.

*******

Andrew sipped his white chocolate mint frappuccino (not his favorite, but free was free) while watching Neil deal with Nicky now that there was a lull in customers; his cousin had been too tired from the late night out to do more than whine a little, but now that he had some caffeine in him and a second wind, Neil was fair game.

"So tell me, is it bad? I don't want to think it's bad, but I looked _hot_ last night," Nicky prattled on as he all but shoved his phone in front of Neil's face, which made the idiot take a quick step back; Andrew almost intervened, except Matt managed to pry a bit of distance between the two with a mostly friendly smile and a large hand on Nicky's left shoulder. "I looked _damn hot_ , so why didn't he try to get into my pants?"

"But they're your pants, why would he do that?" Neil asked, his expression all big blue eyes and puzzled frown; Andrew wasn't certain, but he thought he caught a suspicious gleam in those eyes when Nicky wailed about baby innocents and attempted to hug Neil, only to be pulled back by Matt once again.

All right then, so how much of everything was Neil being an oblivious idiot and how much of it was him being a troll? Andrew's eyes narrowed as he thought about the last few days, about Neil's reactions and responses, and he had to squash flat the urge to smack the sneaky idiot.

"I meant, why didn't he want me? _Sexually_ ," Nicky stressed when Neil continued the innocent routine. "Anyone else would have had me-" he paused to glance over at Andrew and gave a nervous laugh. "Well, he could have at least tried, dammit."

Neil sighed in a rather plaintive manner while he tugged on the hood of his light purple hoodie. "Why me? I don't understand this, I really don't. I'm not Des- ah, okay." He sighed again while glancing at Andrew, which left Andrew wondering what he'd been about to say. "Erik is... old-fashioned," Neil settled on that explanation after almost a minute of contemplation, during which Nicky seemed ready to explode from impatientness. "He believes in doing things a certain way, and, uhm, taking his time." A slight flush darkened Neil's cheeks, which Andrew told himself was not attractive in any manner. Not at all. "I believe you're going to have to resign yourself to 'waiting' for him to get into your pants."

"In other words, he doesn’t put out like you do," Andrew told his cousin.

Nicky must have had a good date – lack of sex aside – because he gave Andrew the finger and didn’t immediately run in the opposite direction. “Very funny. So wait, you’re telling me that he didn’t try to get into my pants because he _likes_ me?” Nicky stared at Neil with a mixture of hope and incredulousness, and once again Andrew felt something dark and turbulent twist inside of him as he thought about Luther Hemmick, about what the bastard had done to his own son. Yes, Nicky was a pest and yes, he crossed lines way too much for Andrew’s personal liking, but in the end Nicky usually meant well. Nicky just wanted people to like him, just wanted the people he liked to be happy, and a good bit of his idiocy stemmed from those two facts.

Add to the mix a father who had refused to accept him for being gay, who had used emotional and mental abuse in an attempt to ‘drive the gay’ out of his own child, had even sent Nicky off to a damn anti-gay camp, and it had messed him up even more. As had Luther forcing home the image that no one would want Nicky for anything more than sex, that him giving in to his ‘obscene’ nature would mean that he’d never be anything but worthless and filthy.

Bee did what she could, and Andrew had to wonder if there were days when she questioned what the hell she’d done to deserve to be stuck with two fucked up young men in her life.

“Ah, yes?” Neil said, while Matt nodded and patted a now beaming Nicky on the back.

“Erik really is old-fashioned. Maybe try dialing it back a little,” Matt told Nicky. “I’m sure he knows you’re into him now, so give him a chance to do some wooing.”

Nicky seemed to think about that for a moment and then grinned some more. “Yeah! Yeah, I can do that!” He started mumbling something in Spanish beneath his breath as he went over to the register, probably drawing inspiration from some stupid movie, but all Andrew cared about was that he wouldn’t have to put up with a whiny pest on the way home that night.

He waited for Neil to come over to give the idiot a suspicious look. “You know what it means when someone says they want to get in your pants, don’t you?”

Neil tried the big eye look on him, and got a spoon thrown at him which he dodged; the idiot had decent reflexes, Andrew had to give him that. “I have heard the phrase before, yes.”

So he had been yanking on Nicky’s chain back there – Andrew would have to pay closer attention to the sneaky bastard. “We both have tomorrow off.”

Neil looked at him as if waiting for something else, and when Andrew did nothing but finish his drink, sighed. “That was a statement apparently. Yes, we do.”

“I’ll be by to pick you up at one,” Andrew told him. That would give him enough time to sleep in on his day off.

A drink order came in, so Neil worked on that while he seemed to consider what Andrew had just said. Once it was finished, he finally spoke up. “ _Why_ are you picking me up?”

“Because you’re going to help me with something.” Andrew went over to fetch a chocolate cupcake while he waited for the idiot to process that bit of information, and had almost finished it before Neil had his next question lined up – this was going to take the entire shift at this rate.

“Help you with what?” Now Neil was glaring a slight bit, as if indignant at having his day hijacked. Too bad.

“A research project. Now, to help speed this along, yes you have to come along, we’ll be going to a library and any other place I can think of to look up information, and bring your wallet since you’ll be buying food and drinks.” Andrew paused to take the last bite of his snack. “Oh, and no, you can’t stay home, you’re coming along.”

Neil’s straight brows drew closer and closer together the more Andrew talked, until there was a crevice between them from him frowning so much and a slight pout on his lips. Andrew found himself wanting to reach out and press his finger against the indentation for some reason - actually, there were quite a few things he wanted to do to the idiot, things that left him flustered and angry at himself which meant that he was angry at Neil, especially when he wasn't even certain what Neil was, other than an idiot. An oblivious, probably asexual idiot who looked too damn good in those skinny jeans that Nicky had picked out for him. Dammit.

"But why?" Neil finally said after almost a minute of sulking.

"Do you really have anything better to do?" Andrew countered. "Like help out Nicky on his quest to get laid by Erik or another movie marathon?" Of _course_ panic looked just as enticing on the idiot as surliness.

"Ah, no." Neil cast a wary glance over at Matt and Nicky, who were huddled close together next to the register, probably busy plotting something not good for Erik, and shuddered a little. "You are the more bearable of the options."

How nice, he was _bearable_. Andrew had a feeling that someone was going to be even more of a failure at making drinks than usual. "Idiots should be seen and not heard," he informed Neil, which brought back the puzzled frown.

They dealt with a few orders that came in, which Andrew 'claimed' two of (he was going to have a nice caffeine buzz by the end of the shift), then he made Neil restock the display cases before he helped himself to a couple of fresh snacks, and then they got a proper rush. Andrew was almost smiling from watching Neil grind his teeth together each time he snatched a drink away, as he stood there and did nothing but sip his pilfered goods and hand over the occasional ingredient or two while Neil worked hard to clear the order queue.

"Am I back to guttersnipe yet?" he asked as he handed over a new gallon of milk.

All Neil did was give him an inarticulate snarl by way of an answer, and Andrew swore he caught a flash of silver in those blue eyes.

Very amusing, he decided, even if it didn't do much by way of getting him some answers. However, the Laughing Fox wasn't the best place for him to quiz Neil on what the hell the idiot was, if he was some genetically engineered freak or something magical or what. No, wait until tomorrow, Andrew told himself. Wait until they were alone to ask Neil the questions he'd thought up the night before, about Neil and the winged woman.

Once all the drinks were made and there were no more annoying customers waiting in line, Neil gave Andrew a baleful look before stomping off, surprising even Matt with him taking a break. Andrew debated things for a moment and then gave chase while pulling his pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, half expecting to find an empty store room when he got there, but instead saw Neil sitting on a stack of boxes.

Neil blinked at him a couple of times. "What are you doing here?"

"Making sure you don't disappear - there's still most of a shift to finish," he said before lighting up a cigarette.

"I know that, and I don't think you're supposed to do that here." All Andrew did was draw in a deep breath then blow out some smoke, which made Neil sigh. "Do you revel in breaking rules?"

"If they're stupid, then yes." Andrew leaned against one of the shelves as he studied Neil, who was sitting hunched over with his arms wrapped around his middle as if his stomach ached or if he was cold. "Does it really bother you, spending a day with me?"

"Hmm?" Neil seemed to think about the question while Andrew waited for an answer while refusing to show any interest in the response. "No. There were a few other things I was going to do, but... no." Neil sounded surprised by his response. "Though I suppose it helps that you won't be able to force me to make drinks that you'll only steal away, if we're not here." There was a slight smile on his lips while he pointed that out.

"Don't bet on it, I can be very inventive when I want," Andrew warned.

"I'd be more worried if you weren't so lazy." Neil hummed a little before he closed his eyes, which saved him from Andrew's scathing glare; he rested his head against the wrapped clothes on the shelf behind him, his neck extended and hood casting shadows on his face, and for a moment he didn't seem real, didn't seem human. Andrew sensed a vast sense of age to him, age and power and loneliness, and felt drawn to Neil, felt the urge to go to him at the same time some small part of him cringed from the redhead. It was odd, the dichotomy, and before he could figure it out, Neil sighed and appeared back to normal. Well, as _normal_ as he ever was.

Andrew drew in a deep drag from the cigarette to calm his rattled nerves then shook his head. "I'm not lazy, I'm merely very efficient at what I do."

"Which is being _lazy_ ," Neil insisted. "You've embraced Sloth on a level that's outstanding." He gave Andrew a look that might have conveyed some sort of interest if Andrew didn't know better. "Are you _sure_ you're not an acolyte of hers?"

"Are you part of some weird cult?" Andrew hadn't considered that before but it was being added to the list now.

The question wiped the slight smile from Neil's lips. "I have _nothing_ to do with them, I don't care if they think I do." For some reason the question seemed to hit a sore spot with the idiot.

"All right, so that’s a ‘no’." Andrew took one last drag on the cigarette then dropped it to the floor so he could stomp it out. "Ready to suck at making drinks some more?"

That drew another sigh from Neil, one long and weary. "I'm going to make things right with the Fates, I am. I don't know what I did to deserve this, but something will surely put me back in their good graces." He gave Andrew a decidedly sour look as if to make it clear what he thought his problem was in making things right with those mysterious ‘fates’.

"If this is more of that 'sacrifice' talk, I am going to smack you," Andrew warned. " _No_ , bad idiot."

"But-"

" _No_ ," Andrew repeated as he reached out to grab onto the front of Neil's layered shirts and give a quick shake. "The only thing you're about to sacrifice are a few brain cells when I-"

Right then the door to the store room opened to reveal a glowering Wymack, which made Andrew take a step away from it in reaction - into a stunned Neil. He grabbed onto the taller teen as they stumbled about to maintain their balance, and Neil clutched at him too, the both of them pressed together for several seconds.

Neil was cool to the touch, Andrew noticed, his hands on Neil's hips with the fingers of his left one slipping through a gap between those jeans and Neil's shirts. Also, there was a faint scent of... of something to Neil, of something green and herbal, something strange but intriguing.

"What the hell are you two - Dobson! Were you smoking back here, you damn dwarf?"

Neil's face became flushed, which was odd because it was Andrew being yelled at just then, having been caught breaking one of Wymack's stupid rules, and he did this odd thing of pushing at Andrew's shoulders while at the same time he clutched at Andrew's shirt. It was then that Andrew realized that they were still so close together, that they held on to each other and Wymack still prattled on about something. Oh.

"-the fuck are you two doing? Dobson? Josten? I'm not speaking for the hell of it, you know!"

Neil started to shimmer just then, so Andrew did the first thing that came to mind to make the idiot stop - he rocked up onto his toes and smacked their foreheads together. The pain from the impact made him wince, but it seemed to help solidify Neil, to startle a faint cry out of him as he attempted to jerk away – only to stumble and fall even more on Andrew.

“Are you two fooling around? For fuck’s sake, Josten! He’s a kid!”

Andrew frowned at that, trying to figure out what the hell Wymack was shouting about now, while Neil’s face became even redder and he scrambled to pull away from Andrew. “Ah… I… uhm….”

They finally managed to stand on their own, and it was only when Neil was yanking his hood as far over his head as possible and Wymack was glaring at Neil for some reason that Andrew realized that he hadn’t felt uncomfortable at all in the last minute or so. That there had been no negative reaction to touching Neil – well other than the headache from head-butting him.

“What?” Andrew asked Wymack with exasperation at the man standing there glowering at them. “We were talking.”

“Really? Is that what you call it these days?” the man asked as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Andrew gave him a flat look for that bit of stupidity. “What the hell? You been sniffing too much coffee grounds, old man? We were talking on our break until you barged in here. Just because you try to get lucky with Abby back here, doesn’t mean everyone else does.” While Wymack spluttered out a denial, Andrew grabbed Neil’s left arm and dragged him toward the door. “Come on, time for you to make some more shitty drinks.”

They had mostly gotten away when Wymack yelled something about ‘demon midgets’ and ‘no smoking’, but Andrew ignored him with a practiced ease.

As soon as they were back behind the counter, Neil tugged his arm free but just stood there, his eyes peeking past the hood of his shirt at Andrew as he rubbed at where Andrew had been holding on to him. “Just ignore the old man, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Andrew told him.

“Uhm, okay.” For some reason Neil’s cheeks were pink again.

Was there something wrong with him? “Look, you need to stop it with the… the disappearing act,” Andrew warned the idiot; no wonder Neil had people babysitting him or whatever. “I really am about to put a collar on you.” When Neil just stared at him, cheeks aflame and eyes wide, Andrew went still. “What?” What was wrong with the idiot now?

“Could you… could you step back?” Neil asked, his voice strained and quiet.

Anger flared up in Andrew, not at Neil but at himself for doing something to trigger the redhead, for scaring him – it had probably been the collar comment, or maybe hitting him back in the room. He turned around to leave, only to stop when Neil called out his name.

“An-andrew? Where are you going?”

Only the blatant confusion in Neil’s voice made Andrew turn back around instead of leaving the coffee shop; he scowled at the idiot hunched over by the counter as he tried to make sense out of everything, about why someone who wanted him gone would call out for him. “You said to go away.”

Neil cocked his head to the side and frowned. “No, I asked for you to step back. I distinctly remember speaking the current American English dialect just then.”

Andrew wasn’t in the mood for Neil’s weird gibberish shit. “Didn’t you want me to go? Why else would you tell me to get away from you?” Because Andrew had fucked up, had crossed a line and done something he shouldn’t have, of course.

“Because…,” Andrew braced himself for Neil saying those words, for telling him he’d fucked up, “because I was feeling very… odd,” Neil said as his frown deepened and he pressed his right hand against his chest. “I was feeling very warm and….” He appeared to think about something. “It was a lot like being anxious, but not quite. I don’t understand it, but it happened because you were so close.”

Andrew stood there and stared at the idiot for several seconds as he felt as if his brain had frozen up in reaction to what had just been said. Was Neil… had he just… did that mean…. “Wait, so you’re not angry or afraid?”

“Why would I be either of those things?” Neil asked as he turned away to check to see if there were any drink orders since there was someone at the register talking to Matt.

Yet he had no clue what he’d just said, did he? Where the hell had he lived for the last decade or two, beneath a rock? Andrew was back to the theory that Neil had grown up in a lab as some experiment or something as he stepped forward until he was almost pressed against the idiot’s back. Right away Neil drew in a deep breath then stilled, his eyes going wide and a slight flush spreading across those sharp cheekbones of his.

“Is your heart speeding up? Do you feel warm?” Andrew asked as he leaned in a little more, close enough to whisper in Neil’s left ear, even if it was covered by the damn hood.

“Yuh-yes.” Neil shivered a little. “What is it? Why is it doing that?”

Oh no, Andrew wasn’t saying _anything_ , let Matt explain it to the idiot with another movie marathon, if he could. “Figure it out yourself,” he said before he stepped away to lean against the counter.

“You’re not a guttersnipe, you’re a pretentious churl,” Neil muttered as he ground some coffee beans for a new drink.

Perhaps, but it seemed maybe Neil wasn’t asexual after all, that ‘pretentious churls’ just might be his ‘thing’. Andrew stood there and watched the idiot make the next couple of drink orders, only to step in and steal the last one, a hint of a smile on his face when he was glared at for his audacity.

Hmm, so maybe not asexual, if he was reading the reaction right, but what did that mean? Could it be that Neil was demi and just hadn’t been attracted to anyone before now? It was obvious that Neil had no idea about what he was feeling, so he wasn’t used to feeling attraction for anyone. Did he need there to be something before he could respond to someone?

Why the hell would he find it in Andrew? Had he been that sheltered in his life that he had no chance to be attracted to anyone, and now thought that Andrew was a wise choice? It was clear that Neil was even more messed up than Andrew had suspected.

Things got busy again which meant that Andrew was spared from insane thoughts for a while, and when there were any lulls in the customers, Nicky had to come over and ask Neil what he thought about the plan that the pest had worked out with Matt. Andrew didn’t know why he bothered, since Neil didn’t seem to care that much about it and basically said ‘whatever Matt – wait, no, whatever _Dan_ thinks is best’, which was a bit amusing since Matt at first was all offended and then sheepishly agreed with his friend.

They’d gotten another lull, one where Nicky had gone off to text Erik and Matt was on his break talking to Dan, when Andrew was testing his ‘demi’ theory by leaning next to Neil as he cleaned the one espresso machine. At first there was that now familiar blush and wide-eyed look, and then Neil stiffened, his entire body tense and expression blank; Andrew cursed himself for pushing things too far, especially when Neil began to shimmer.

“It’s been quite a while, hasn’t it?”

Something in the stranger’s voice, in the smugness to it, the smooth assuredness of it, grated on Andrew’s nerves, made the anger at himself flare into something stronger, something much more potent. Just as he turned away from Neil to find the bastard who had spoken, Neil stopped shimmering and reached out to touch him gently on the left shoulder.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Neil said, just the one word, but somehow, the rage quieted down a little, just enough for Andrew to be able to think again. Neil gave him a sad smile and turned around as well, and they both faced the counter to find a man dressed in black and red standing there.

He was taller than both of them, which wasn’t unexpected, but he probably only had a few inches on Neil so he wasn’t that tall, and he appeared to be Asian. His black hair was cut mostly short and slicked back from his face, his eyes were a dark brown and glittered with some sharp emotion as they stared at Neil, with something that made Andrew want to reach across the counter and punch the bastard. Possessiveness – it was possessiveness, Andrew realized.

“You’re looking… well, you’re looking quite plebian, _Neil_ ,” the man sneered. “Decided to go slumming, have we?”

Neil let out a shaky breath as he stared at the bastard, and Andrew thought he caught a flash of silver for a moment. “You’re not welcome here, so _go away_ , _pesteng ulupong_.

The man laughed as he set his gloved hands on the counter and leaned toward Neil, who stiffened again but didn’t move away. “Pleasant as always. But is that all you’re going to do? Did someone pull your claws, _little one_? Janus tell you to behave or else while you play games in this dump of his?”

Neil let out something sharp and hissing in a language that Andrew didn’t understand, and he swore that the counter between the two men cracked and chipped while the bastard straightened up in a hurry. “Ah, ah, _Neil_ , you want to play games, you can do it right,” he said while glancing at Andrew. “After all, it’s only _proper_.”

“You don’t know the meaning of the word, you scabrous _levereter_ ,” Neil hissed, his lean frame taut with rage and eyes glowing with silver. “You dare to approach me here, surrounded by innocents, because you’re too much of a _coward_ to do anything else.”

The bastard’s face twisted with anger and his eyes darkened to a pure black; Andrew would worry about people seeing all of this shit except for some reason, the shop had cleared out of customers and staff, all except for him. Before he could ponder that some more, the bastard spat out something in an unfamiliar language that sounded a little like Japanese, something that made Neil shake his head and hiss back.

That only made the bastard smile and he reached for Neil with his gloved right hand, except Andrew had enough at that point; he slipped free a knife and slashed it at the bastard while he tugged Neil closer to him.

“Enough,” Andrew told him with a cold smile as the rage bubbled forth again – even if it wasn’t for the way he upset Neil, the way he acted as if he had a _right_ to Neil, the bastard just rubbed Andrew _wrong_. “You heard him, get the fuck out of here and don’t come back. Don’t come _near_ him.” He waved his knife around in the air to make it clear what would happen if the bastard ignored Andrew’s warning.

The bastard appeared surprised at Andrew’s interference, his all black eyes narrowing in displeasure before his lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl. “Know your place, mongrel,” he sneered. “Before I muzzle you.”

“No,” Neil snapped while Andrew merely continued to smile at the bastard. “You leave him out of this!”

That prompted another smile from the bastard, one sharp with satisfaction. “What is this?” He appeared much too pleased as he once more focused on Neil. “Oh, did you go and get attached to _something_? Not _you!_ ” The smile vanished from his face as he once more spoke in the odd language, as the possessiveness returned and he said something that made Neil draw in a quick breath and wrap his arms around himself.

No more, Andrew had enough of the bastard and slashed the knife at him again, that time almost cutting him if it wasn’t for Neil pulling on his arm at the last moment. Still, it got the bastard to jump back in shock, to stop saying whatever it was that was affecting Neil so much.

“You filthy little-“

“ _Go away_ ,” Neil said, the silver back in his eyes and coldness radiating from his body. “Go now or else I won’t care about the rules, _any_ of them,” he told the bastard. “And don’t return here.”

“You’ll listen to me,” the bastard yelled even as he took a hasty step toward the door. “Or I’ll tell _him_ where you are.” Neil flinched beside Andrew, which made the bastard smile. “It’s me or _him_ , little one.”

“Pox-riddled bastard!,” Neil shouted as the smirking bastard left the shop, then he slumped down against the counter; Andrew fought against the impulse to go chasing after the man, but he forced himself to stay by Neil instead and returned the knife into the armband.

He debated crouching down next to Neil but went to fix a cup of tea first, and had just returned to the idiot’s side with it when Wymack and Matt came running out from the back. “Are you two all right?” Wymack demanded to know while Matt immediately went to Neil.

“Where’s Nicky?” Andrew asked as he held the cup of tea out to Neil, who accepted it with a slight nod of thanks.

“I have him and Jocelyn cleaning the store room,” Wymack said as he searched around the shop as if looking for something. “Everything all right out here? He didn’t do any damage?”

How had Wymack known something was going on out here? And if so, why the hell hadn’t he come out to help?

“No,” Neil said as he slowly stood up. “His goal was to talk to me.” He looked at Wymack and gave another slight nod. “I told him to stay away. Hopefully he’ll heed the warning.”

Wymack didn’t appear happy at the moment, but before he said anything, Matt touched Neil on the shoulder and eyed him up and down. “Are you okay? We couldn’t do much back there, not with Te- ah,” he glanced at Andrew, “with Jean back there to keep us from interfering.”

Neil held the cup of tea in his hands and stared into it for a moment before giving a slight shrug. “He’s up to something, but I think it’s something on his own. I’ll have to see what it is.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Wymack said while Matt nodded. “Don’t go bringing trouble down on yourself.” He hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “Look, if you need to go, don’t feel obligated to stay here.”

“I think it’s a bit late for that.” Neil gave them a faint smile and stepped away. “I think I need another break.” He didn’t say more than that as he walked away without the cup of tea.

Matt made to go after him, but Andrew blocked him. “It’s time for my break, too. Have Nicky help you with the drinks,” he told the man as he hurried after Neil before the idiot vanished.

Neil was starting to shimmer by the time Andrew caught up to him in the back alley, the small space between the coffee shop and the Indian restaurant with the air carrying a faint hint of spices to go along with the fetid reek from the trash bins. “What did I tell you about that?” he called out, which made Neil spin around to face him, solid once more.

“What are you doing here?”

“Keeping you from running away,” Andrew said as he once more lit up a cigarette. “I get the impression you do that a lot.” When Neil didn’t deny it, he exhaled the smoke through his nose. “Who was that guy?”

Neil shook his head, which made the hood slip from his head; in the shadows of the alley he stood out with the colorful hair and brilliant blue of his eyes. He wasn’t like Andrew, wasn’t washed out and unexceptional, wasn’t someone who no one had really wanted, not even his own mother – no one but the sick fucks looking for someone to hurt and use. Not until Bee, at least. No, there was something about Neil, there was the way he drew the eye in despite his attempts to discourage it, the way he made people care about him and fuss over his idiot self.

The way he’d had that bastard looking at him as if he was a possession, a thing to own, to break.

“You don’t need to know that,” Neil argued as he wrapped his arms around his middle. Around scars Andrew was certain were just as bad as the ones he’d caught a glimpse of the other night, whose story he wanted to know. Scars which he’d make sure were the last marks to end up on the idiot’s body.

“The hell I don’t.” Andrew felt his temper flare again, felt something surge inside of him, something that drove him on to drop the cigarette and grab the front of Neil’s shirts once again. “Who. Is. He?”

His actions surprised Neil, he could tell that much, and there was a flare of silver in those blue eyes which Andrew stared into as that fire roared inside of him. “There are some things it’s not wise for you to know,” Neil stated, his voice taking on an odd, echoing quality.

“I don’t care,” Andrew told him, and he meant it. When the idiot remained quiet, he tried a different approach. “He acted like he owns you. Does he?”

“ _No._ ”

“But he thinks he does?”

“… yes,” Neil answered, the silver overtaking the blue in his eyes as he spoke.

“Why?” When Neil shuddered at the question, Andrew shifted his left hand along to cup the back of Neil’s neck. “Why does he think that?”

“Because he and my father….” Neil shook his head, not enough to dislodge Andrew’s hand but to indicate that he wasn’t going to finish that sentence. “My father promised him something and it didn’t work. That is all you need to know.” There was a stubborn set to his jaw as he stared at Andrew with those impossible eyes.

“And your father was the man he threatened you with, right?” Andrew took the way that Neil shuddered again as a ‘yes’. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Neil confessed after a slight pause. “If I run, then he’ll hurt those of you here to force me to come back. It’s best I stay and deal with him.”

The heat, the _rage_ inside of Andrew flared even more upon hearing that. “No,” he swore. “You don’t deal with him _, I_ do.” When Neil’s glowing eyes grew wide upon hearing that, Andrew gave his nape a quick squeeze. “I’ll protect you from him.”

“You don’t even know what he is. You don’t know what _I_ am,” Neil said.

“I don’t care,” Andrew told the idiot while meaning every bit of those words.

“You should.” Neil grew freezing to touch as his eyes shone brighter and brighter until they were like twin stars, his hair glimmering as if flames and his skin paled to smoke. “ _You should care_.”

“ _I don’t_.” Andrew tightened his fingers so Neil couldn’t slip away, burning away the cold with the fire inside of him. “ _I will protect you_.”

Those incandescent eyes seemed to gaze at him, the feel of overwhelming power pressed all around Andrew, and then Neil was _Neil_ again, was staring at Andrew with a stunned expression and blue eyes with only a hint of silver. “But….”

“No ‘buts’, just accept it before I throttle you for being so stupid.” Andrew frowned while he waited for an answer, as the rage pulsed inside of him.

“Oh… okay.”

“Was that a ‘yes’?” Andrew asked, his tone quiet yet eyes narrowed with impatience.

“I’m going to regret this – no, _we’re_ both going to regret this, but ‘yes’,” Neil muttered even as he met Andrew’s eyes. Then he reached out to touch Andrew on the center of the chest; the rage spluttered out, leaving a rare calmness in its wake. “You shouldn’t do this, shouldn’t agree to this,” Neil said in a quiet voice. “It’s up to me to deal with him.”

Andrew stirred at that and pulled Neil in closer. “No. _No_. An idiot like you can’t be expected to handle something like this, so it’s up to me.” Even if the words were spat out in a flippant manner, there was a bone of truth to them. He didn’t want Neil to deal with the bastard because part of him grasped that it would be better if _he_ handled the matter. Neil was too close, was too bound by previous promises and ties and all that shit, while Andrew could strike out and do the most damage. And oh, did he want to do that damage to the bastard, to someone who thought he could waltz in and push around Neil, to snap out commands and make Neil fall in step like an obedient pet.

Neil answered to no one, belonged to no one, and Andrew would break into pieces anyone who thought otherwise.

There was a slight gasp from Neil as he was tugged closer to Andrew, a dusting of pink along his pale cheeks, and then he was shaking his head. “Don’t presume too much.”

“I can’t _help_ but to presume enough when it comes to an idiot like you,” Andrew scoffed, and for a moment he was faced with an incredulous Neil who stared at him with wide blue eyes and parted lips. While Andrew found himself faced with to the impulse to do something very, _very_ stupid, Neil shimmered then disappeared before Andrew could smack him back to being solid.

Cursing himself for being distracted like that, Andrew had another cigarette before he went inside to finish his shift without an idiot to help pass the time, intent on warning Matt that his roommate better be at the apartment at one pm tomorrow or else.

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *******  
> Ah, poor oblivious Death!Neil. To be fair, he's lived so long, he really needs help putting the pieces together on some things.
> 
> And he's such a snarky little shit, it's starting to creep out.
> 
> And Andrew's aspect is really coming to the fore here, for a couple of reasons.
> 
> More Renee/Natalie/Tisiphone love....
> 
> Some more insight into Nicky, too. A look at how not meeting (a human) Erik in the books would lead to Luther effing him up and making him think he's not worth much because of his sexuality. Seeing the damage Luther did to Nicky and not having Aaron reach out to him (no juvie, him being adopted) is in large part why Andrew is having nothing to do with the Hemmicks/Minyards - Luther did that to his own son and no one stood up for Nicky.
> 
> I think that's it?
> 
> As always, the comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!  
> *******


	8. Death (is forced to) Finally Gets A Clue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, I may regret this in a week or two when things get so crazy that the posting schedule gets all thrown off, but since I posted the Dragon!Andrew story yesterday, you get Death!Neil early! Considering that the next chapter is mostly finished, we should still be good for the Sunday posting, but we'll see what happens after that.
> 
> Just a little stuff going on in this chapter. Hmm. Yeah.  
> *******

*******

Andrew stood in the kitchen with a mug of hot chocolate in his right hand while Nicky showed him and Bee his outfit for the night out. “What do you think?”

Bee hummed a little while she took in the dark grey blaze with the rolled up sleeves over the black t-shirt with ‘Gay AF’ in rainbow colors on the front, the dark blue jeans that for once didn’t look tight as hell and the grey sneakers. “It’s… well, it’s actually mild for you. Are you feeling all right?” she asked with evident concern.

Nicky gave a nervous smile as he tugged on the ends of the blazer, which made the stack of leather bracelets on his left forearm shift about. “Dan and Matt agreed that I should be more myself tonight with Erik, that I shouldn’t try too much. So, uhm, this is me, right?” He stared at Bee and Andrew as anxiously if awaiting their verdict.

Bee glanced at Andrew in apparent confusion, while Andrew clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “I almost feel sorry for the poor guy, because yeah, it’s you.”

That seemed to put Nicky’s fears to rest, because his cousin stuck out his tongue while Bee smiled. “He’s going to be dazzled tonight, _dazzled_ I tell you,” Nicky insisted while he fussed with his hair, which wasn’t as teased up as it usually was for his nights out. Andrew just grunted and had some more of his drink while Bee went over to straighten the collar of Nicky’s coat, and Erik showed up a couple of minutes after that.

He was dressed in a pair of jeans that looked brand new, ankle boots and a light blue dress shirt that might be designer, with a bottle of wine in one hand which was handed over to a once more bemused Bee and what appeared to be a bag of some Mexican candy he gave Nicky ‘because I remember you talked about them last night’. Nicky let out a pleased squeal upon receiving them and, after a glance at Andrew, excused himself to go hide them in his room (they didn’t look like chocolate so Andrew didn’t care), which left Erik with Bee and Andrew.

“So, you seem to be getting along well with Nicky,” Bee said as she set what looked to be a very nice bottle of red wine down on the counter – well out of Andrew’s reach.

Erik smiled at her, all bright white teeth and blue eyes and good cheer; he annoyed Andrew on sheer principles but so far, he made Nicky happy so Andrew would continue to keep an eye on the man and the knives at bay. “Yes, your Nicholas is a wonderful young man. I’m enjoying getting to know him better.”

“Perhaps you should join us for dinner one night,” Bee offered with that one smile of hers which Andrew knew not to trust, but made Erik smile even more and give her a slight bow of his head.

“I would be greatly honored,” the German said, unaware that he was setting himself up for a couple of hours of careful interrogation and analysis by an expert.

Bee’s smile took on a slight, sharp edge and there was a suspicious gleam in her brown eyes behind the thin lenses of her glasses. “I’ll talk to Nicky about arranging a night.”

“Eh, arranging what?” Nicky asked since he’d just returned to the kitchen.

“Erik will be joining us for dinner one night,” Bee told him, while Erik continued to stand there with that beaming smile on his face.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Erik asked.

Nicky gulped a little while he glanced at Bee, well aware of her intent behind the offer, and gave Erik a shaky smile. “Yeah, it’ll be fun.” Then he rallied a little, because Bee had only ever invited one of his previous ‘boyfriends’ to dinner before, so he realized that she was doing it because she thought they’d be seeing more of Erik in the future. “So, where are you taking me tonight?”

“I thought dinner and dancing might be appreciated, yes?” When Nicky’s smile threatened to take over the bottom half of his face at his delight in the answer, Erik turned to wish Bee and Andrew a good night and the two finally left. By that point, Andrew had finished his hot chocolate and went over to the counter to make some more.

“I have to say, he knows how to make Nicky happy,” Bee commented as she went to check the bottle of wine, which had been set down next to the flowers from the night before. “He’s not doing too bad with me, either,” she added with a slight laugh. “Flowers and wine, and he’s not even dating me.”

“He’s _old-fashioned_ , according to Neil,” Andrew said as he added hot water to the mix in his mug, then narrowed his eyes when he noticed Bee’s look. “What?”

“Hmm, you seem to be talking about this ‘Neil’ a lot. Should I be inviting him over to dinner soon, too?”

“Good luck with that,” Andrew remarked as he thought about how little the idiot ate. “Worry about Nicky’s love life and not mine.” Then he regretted the words in an instant when he noticed how Bee’s expression sharpened.

“Ah, ‘love life’? Really.” She grinned when he scowled at her. “Fine, I’ll back off, for _now_ ,” she warned him, then shook her head. “But I’m happy that both of you seem to be finding some decent young men at last.”

He scoffed at that ‘decent’ comment. “I’m not going to talk about this.” Neil couldn’t even figure out that he was attracted to Andrew in the first place, so Andrew wasn’t holding his breath on anything happening between them.

“All right, so what _do_ you want to talk about?” Bee asked as she picked up her neglected mug of hot chocolate. “Work? School? How I’m not going to let you sneak that bottle of wine?” She smiled when he frowned at that last bit.

He had a sip of hot chocolate while he put his thoughts in order. “Do you believe in magic?” he finally asked after about a minute’s quiet.

“Hmm, that’s a new topic,” Bee said after a few seconds of reflection, and she had another sip before she continued. “I believe… I believe that there are a lot of unexplainable things out there, but I don’t know if I believe in ‘magic’ like most people in define it, in casting spells and magic wands and things like that.” She regarded him over the rim of her mug, her eyes bright and intent. “Why?”

Again, he took some time to put his thoughts in order. “Lately… lately it seems that there’s been a few of those ‘unexplainable’ things in my life, which makes me wonder.”

Bee was quiet for a minute as if giving him a chance to elaborate, then nodded. “There’s so much in this world that we don’t know about, all this potential inside of us and out there to discover despite how well we think we know things. When you think about it, things we do today would be considered ‘magic’ a century or two ago, so it’s all a matter of perspective.”

“So you think what we consider ‘magic’ is possible.” He sipped the sweet, hot drink while he studied her.

“Yes,” she answered without any hesitation. “As long as you aren’t too focused on that exact definition of ‘magic’.” Then she laughed a little. “I think this is a conversation best left to Abby, though,” she said, which surprised him a little. “I told you how we met in university.” When he groaned a little at her bringing up the old story, she smiled and gave his left ankle a gentle nudge with his foot. “In that one comparative religion class, where I noticed that she argued a lot when other students mocked alternative religions, so I struck up a conversation with her outside of class one day. That was where I found out she was Wiccan.”

He thought back to all the conversations he’d had with Abby over the years, to the small moon pendants she wore and how she carefully skirted discussions about the holidays. “She doesn’t talk about it, though.” She didn’t avoid it if Bee or someone who was a close friend brought it up, but she didn’t go out of her way to discuss her religion, either.

Bee gave a slight shrug. “It’s not exactly a secret, but she doesn’t bring it up to strangers since some people can be rude about it or take offense.”

“Ah.” Andrew thought about that, about how all of a sudden it seemed that there was a bunch of mystical, magical shit in his life; first was Neil showing up and then other weird people – Matt, Dan, Erik and the mysterious bastard man, and now there was a focus on Abby being a witch. Add to that the whole winged woman in his dream and Dr. Shahin, and something seemed to be going on. All he had to do was figure out ‘what’.

Hopefully he would get a start on that tomorrow, when out with Neil.

It was quiet while he finished his drink with Bee, and then she hummed a little again. “You know, it’s because of Abby that I met you.” When he gave her a quizzical look at that statement, she smiled. “She was on duty at the hospital when you were brought in, and she paged me that she thought there was a case that I might be interested in. I stopped by because of that, and was offered your case as a result.”

Andrew frowned at that, because he didn’t remember seeing Abby there when he’d been admitted, didn’t remember her as one of the nurses who’d help treated him for shock and exposure. _Was_ there something wrong with his memory? Or was there more to that whole event than he’d ever expected?

He stayed in the kitchen and let Bee talk to him a bit more about Abby, about some of the things the two women had done in university, and then he left his mug in the sink and got ready for bed. After reading one of his books for a little while to try to clear his mind, he finally went to bed and wasn’t surprised to have a dream about the winged woman during the night, about him seeing her approach him in the woods with the moonlight reflecting on her white hair with the bright red ends, shining on her metal wings as an incredible music rang out from those rustling feathers. She was so real, so beautiful and his chest ached when he woke up, filled with an odd sense of longing and loss.

It took a while to fall back to sleep after that, and he slept in as a result until almost noon, when he woke up and got a shower and shaved, when he found himself taking a little more time than usual to get ready, to pick out a nice pair of jeans and t-shirt that showed off the muscles in his chest and arms from the hours he put in at the campus gym. It left his black armbands exposed, but there were weirder fashion statements out there these days and Bee didn’t do much more than arch an eyebrow when he went out to the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee and have a chocolate muffin.

“Plans for the day?” she asked as she looked up from the paper she was reading at the table.

“Meeting someone for a research project,” he told her and left it at that; from the expression on her face she wanted to know more, but she shrugged after a couple of seconds and resumed reading the paper.

Done eating, he dumped his mug in the sink and went back into his room to brush his teeth, then came out to grab his keys from where he’d left them on the counter from the night before. By that point Nicky was out there, appearing a bit rumpled but smiling.

“Oh, you look good.” Nicky leaned in close enough to receive a glare and sniffed. “Hmm, cologne even? Neil won’t know what hit him.”

Andrew shoved him away for that comment, but the damage was done; Bee smiled, the expression a touch wicked, as she got up from the table to pour herself some coffee, still dressed in the old robe she’d had for the last several years. “Ah, since when has _Neil_ been a study partner?”

“It’s for extra credit,” Andrew lied while he gave Nicky a look which warned his cousin there would be retribution later, yes there would. Nicky skirted around to hide behind Bee, and Andrew left while Bee gave him a knowing grin, done with both of them for the time being and unwilling to be late to pick up a certain idiot.

So what if he wanted to smell nice that day, he was sick of reeking of coffee all of the time, that was all.

He arrived a few minutes early to Neil’s apartment and managed to find a parking spot, then went upstairs. Since he’d seen Matt’s huge truck parked outside, he wasn’t surprised when the tall moron opened the door, smiling at him in a rather excited manner. “Great, you’re here! Dan can stop holding on to him now.”

Andrew bit back on a sigh upon hearing that. “He was trying to disappear, wasn’t he?” he asked as he stepped into the apartment.

Matt rubbed the back of his head as he gave Andrew a sheepish grin. “Just the last half an hour or so, after we helped him get dressed. We… might have gone a bit overboard.”

Confused by that statement, Andrew stepped into the living room enough to catch sight of Neil sitting on the couch with a surly expression on his face, his hair actually combed for once so that the auburn curls weren’t falling into his eyes (yet) and wearing a pale grey sweater that fitted his upper body and _didn’t_ possess a hood. Dan was indeed holding on to his left wrist, and upon seeing Andrew and Matt, smiled and stood up, which meant that Neil had to stand up as well, scrambling onto his feet and showing off the dark skinny jeans which made his legs look so long.

“Here he is, all ready for the big date!” Dan declared as she gave Neil a push toward Andrew.

“It’s for a research project,” Andrew corrected her as he held out his hands to help steady the idiot, which brought a faint blush to Neil’s cheeks as he found his footing and pulled away. “Nothing else.”

“Right,” Dan drawled. “Have fun, just don’t do anything too crazy on your first outing.”

“Yeah, no eloping,” Matt added.

Neil frowned at his friends as he stepped toward Andrew. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Of course it doesn’t, that’s the whole _point_ ,” Matt said. “Nothing too crazy, and be careful,” he stressed, while Neil just shook his head as he walked toward the door; for his part, Andrew gave the two a displeased look before leaving as well.

“Fun morning with the roommates?” he asked once they were in the elevator.

Neil made a faint groaning sound and went to pull up his hood before he remembered that he didn’t have one. “I don’t know what came over them, why they felt the need to interfere so much!” He ran his fingers through his bangs, which caused some of the strands to fall into his eyes. “I am perfectly capable of dressing myself!”

Which was why he usually went around in clothes a couple sizes too big and old enough to be thrown out as rags, but Andrew kept that thought to himself. “You haven’t seen that guy again, have you? From yesterday?” The bastard who annoyed the hell out of Andrew and deserved to be stabbed on sight.

Neil was quick to shake his head. “No.”

“What’s his name?” Neil had fled before Andrew could ask him much of anything, so he figured that the question and answer time could start then. Of course Neil didn’t say anything, he just tugged on his bangs, so Andrew waited until they got in his car, the anger growing inside of him the entire time that the silence dragged on at the thought of how Neil was refusing to cooperate. “Who is he?”

“Maybe it’s best that you don’t know,” Neil argued as he shook his head. “I’ve been thinking and-“

Andrew paused in starting the car to smack the dashboard in front of the idiot. “No, you _promised_ me, remember?” He stared at Neil until the idiot met his eyes. “I protect you from him, so tell me his name.”

Neil returned his gaze with a hint of silver in his blue eyes, and then he sighed as he slumped in his seat. “Call him… call him Riko,” he said after a moment’s hesitation.

“Is that his name?”

“It’s one of them,” Neil said with a slight twist to his lips. "Not that he'll appreciate you calling him it."

Andrew thought about that as he pulled out onto the street. "And are you really Neil Josten?"

The idiot was quiet for a moment. "It's as good as any name for me."

He thought about that for a moment, too, before letting it go; 'Neil' probably had a good reason for using an alias, considering everything. "So what is Riko? Why is he after you?" When Neil sighed and took to playing with the left cuff of his sweater, Andrew shook his head as his temper once more flared to life. "No, get this through that thick head of yours, all right? I ask you things and you tell me what I need to know to protect you."

"But... I still think it's a mistake," Neil said while he hunched down in the seat. "You don't understand what you've done, how impossible things are." Then he rubbed at his face. "And why do I have to tell you everything? All I really know about you is that you're a glutton and slothful."

Andrew considered that as he drove toward the library, since the idiot had a point. "All right, you tell me a truth and I tell you one." It only seemed fair.

Neil considered it for about a minute and then nodded. "All right."

Good, they were finally getting somewhere. "So what is he, this Riko?"

The question prompted a moan from Neil and more tugging at the sleeve of his top. "That is... a very complex question," Neil answered as he took to staring out the side window of the car as if the passing scenery was just so _fascinating_ all of a sudden.

"Okay, then for right now tell me why he's after you." Andrew wanted some sort of answer - he _needed_ some sort of answer after yesterday. After seeing the way that bastard had looked at Neil as if he was a possession.

From the way Neil sighed just then it was clear that the idiot wasn't happy, but he started talking soon after that. "Again... it's complicated, but it basically comes down to is... I guess you can say our fathers are connected by a family business. Or were." Neil frowned as he wrapped his arms around his chest as if seeking some sort of comfort. "Riko's father intended to pass things to his older brother and did at one point, so Riko... well, he'd grown up overlooked and mostly unnecessary." He fell quiet for a few seconds.

"I'm sure none of that has anything to do with his lovely personality," Andrew remarked as they inched their way through some traffic, in an effort to prod Neil on to finish the story.

"Hmm, yes, I'm sure of it, too." A slight smile tugged at Neil's lips as he resumed looking forward. "It's probably what drove him on to do... well, I'm sure it factors in to what he became, and him working with my father. I was much like Riko myself, not anyone of importance, not supposed to be able to do much, and then one day my father and Riko decided they had a use for me." Neil once more fell quiet and closed his eyes as minute shivers wracked his lean body. Andrew allowed him to be lost in his memories only for a few seconds before he reached over to tug on an unruly curl, which made Neil gasp but jolted him back to the present, to look at him with wide blue eyes for a moment and then grace him with a grateful smile. "Thu-thank you." Neil rubbed at his face, his left hand covered with the sleeve of his sweater, then inhaled a deep breath. "It... didn't work, not like they planned, but Riko feels that I'm still owed to him for some reason."

There was a lot being left unsaid with that explanation, a lot which Andrew wanted to know - that he expected to know - but it was enough for then. It let Andrew know that Neil's father was even more of an asshole than he had imagined, and that Riko deserved whatever Andrew did to him.

"So what’s your question for me?" he asked Neil, which prompted a thoughtful expression from the idiot.

It took about a minute, and by that point they were almost at the library. "Why do you wear the knives?"

Andrew gave Neil a sharp grin. "Because I'm never going to be caught helpless again. Because I'm not going to let anyone I consider under my protection be harmed again." He waited to see how Neil reacted to that, but all Neil did was give a slight nod, as if in acceptance.

They found a parking spot close to the Oakland Public library and Andrew led Neil into the building; libraries weren't Andrew's favorite places, not with all of their many nooks and shadows between the tall bookshelves, all the hiding spots where an adult could pull a child to- no, he wasn't thinking of such things that day.

"What are we researching?" Neil asked, his expression guarded as if he already had an idea of why Andrew had dragged him along.

"Mythological figures," Andrew told him, and before he could go to the help desk to find where those materials were stored, Neil stilled for a moment as if thinking and then headed to the stairs as if he had a destination in mind. Andrew arched an eyebrow at that then followed, because it wouldn't be the weirdest thing the redhead had done.

Neil went up to the third floor and wound his way through various shelves, toward the far end of the west wing. "What mythological figure in particular?" he asked, that guarded expression still on his face and the hint of silver back in his eyes, which seemed to glow in the semi-darkness of the bookshelves.

"A woman with metal wings and claws who would attack an abusive person," Andrew told him, and watched how Neil's expression grew impassive - he would bet his car that Neil knew exactly what he was talking about, knew about the winged woman in his dreams, and stood back as Neil glanced at the shelves in front of him before picking out four books seemingly at random then slipped away with silent footsteps toward a table tucked into an alcove at the far end of the room - a perfect place for them to talk without being overheard.

Andrew sat down next to Neil and only idly noted the slight flush on the idiot's cheeks at his proximity, being much more interested at the moment in the books spread out in front of him, at the pages opened to show various illustrations of women with wings; Erinyes. Furies.

He'd been on the right track, it seemed.

He pulled one of the books closer, the one with the picture of three winged women with snakes for hair and more snakes held in their hands, and then looked up at Neil. "What do you know about them?" When Neil drew in a slow breath, he shook his head. "Not this stuff, what do you _know_ about them?"

"You couldn't be an imbecile along with slothful and gluttonous, could you?" Neil muttered as he ran his hands through his hair, which completely ruined the neatly combed effect; Andrew had to admit that he much preferred the tousled mess. "The Erinyes, better known as the Furies, are beings whose primary reason for existence is to mete out justice and revenge for those who have been denied it by the people who should protect them. For those who have been utterly wronged and have no other option for succor, for hope." He paused for a moment to wrap his arms around himself again, to make himself as small as possible on the wooden chair; Andrew had to wonder if Neil ever had cause to call upon the Furies for himself. "They also are sometimes used by the gods and other powerful beings to serve as jury and executioners, but for the most part they answer the prayers of those in desperate need, of those who have been ignored by all others."

Andrew considered all of that while he thought about the weeks and even years preceding that night in the forest with Drake, about the fervent prayers he had made to anybody who would listen to him, prayers for someone to help him, to stop Drake (or the others) anyway they could, to hurt the bastard like he was hurting Andrew. He hadn't expected anything to happen because nothing had in the past - _no one_ had helped Andrew in the past, but he'd tried anyway, had prayed anyway, because for the first time in his life it had seemed like he'd found a home. Had found Cass, and he hadn't wanted to lose her because of Drake.

Something or someone had saved him, and he'd lost Cass anyway - but had found Bee and a better home. Funny how things had worked out in the end.

Andrew pulled another of the books closer and scoffed a little at the image of an old woman’s body with wings and a dog’s head. "The Fury who rescued me didn't look anything like this, she was much younger." And beautiful.

Neil was quiet for a moment before he sighed and unfurled enough to tug his bangs down over his forehead as if missing his hood. "You mean she _looked_ much younger. Things aren't always what they appear."

That was an interesting statement, wasn't it? Andrew regarded his 'research' companion and took note of the way that Neil didn't meet his eyes or look down at the books, the way those blue eyes were unfocused as if Neil was lost deep in thought. "Do you know something that you're not telling me? Something about Furies that I should know? One in particular, maybe?"

Neil's shoulders hunched forward as he made a faint whining sound, which Andrew took to mean 'yes', but didn't speak. "I'm waiting."

"Not here," Neil finally said.

"Fine, I was beginning to get thirsty." Andrew closed the books and stood up, which Neil did after a moment's pause and while sighing. They stopped at a nearby cafe where Andrew made Neil buy a few sandwiches, some brownies and a couple of drinks - a soda and a bottle of water, and then they returned to the car so Andrew could drive around for a little while until he found a place where they could talk in private - in a shaded spot of an empty parking lot overlooking a culvert filled with weeds and a small stream of murky water.

Never let it be said that Andrew wasn't a romantic soul.

He grabbed the bag containing the food and got out of the car so he could go sit on the hood, and after a few seconds Neil followed with the drinks. He eyed the hood of the car as if with some trepidation then scooted on top of it, his breath catching in his throat as he settled next to Andrew.

"I don't... I don't understand it," he said as his cheeks reddened once more and he rubbed at the center of his chest, above his sternum.

"Understand what?" Andrew asked as he dug in the bag to fetch Neil's chicken salad sandwich, which he tossed onto the idiot's lap, then kept the rest of the food for himself. When all the idiot did was shake his head and pick up the sandwich with a dubious expression on his face, Andrew started to tear apart an egg salad sandwich. "Here's where you talk about Furies and what you are." At Neil's blank look, he shook his head. "No, I want the truth."

"I think you owe _me_ one, for telling you about the Furies." The silver was back in Neil's eyes and coldness seeped out of his skin as he stared back at Andrew.

Someone wasn't as much of an oblivious fool that day, were they? "What do you want to know?"

"Nicky mentioned that you haven't always lived together. Why is that so?"

Andrew gave him a bland smile before he tossed a bite of sandwich into his mouth, chewed a couple of times then swallowed, which gave him some time to put his thoughts in order. "Because my ‘dear’ birth mother got herself knocked up with twins and decided that she couldn't handle two of us, and put me up for adoption," he explained with almost no evident emotion. "I lived in foster homes until I was thirteen, when Bee Dobson adopted me.” He had a feeling he didn’t need to say much about those homes, not if Neil knew about Furies, not when Neil knew that Andrew had met a Fury. “A couple of years later, this stranger showed up on our doorstep claiming to be my cousin - Nicky. It was then that I found out that I had a twin brother, a mother and an uncle in Georgia, but...." He shrugged and had another piece of his sandwich, because he was getting away from Neil's question. "Nicky didn't get along with them very well because of the whole gay thing, like he said, but Bee has a too-soft heart and took the pest in, and now I'm stuck with him."

"Ah," Neil said after a few seconds. "Twins... it makes sense." He nodded once then bit into his sandwich, chewed a little and seemed to find it acceptable since he swallowed and had another bite.

Why did 'twins' make sense to him? Andrew supposed that would be a question for another time, since he already had quite the list. "Now, do you or don't you know the Fury from my dream?"

Neil seemed to take his time eating the sandwich before he answered, until Andrew reached over to grab onto his wrist to make him stop. "Yes," he admitted while he glared at Andrew with those quicksilver eyes, his skin like ice beneath Andrew's fingers. "I know her."

Again, that raised a host of new questions, such as _how_ Neil knew such a creature, if he had prayed to her as well, and most importantly - _what_ was Neil? However, it was Neil's turn in their little game.

"Why do you want to know about the Fury now? Why does it matter to you?"

Andrew let go of Neil's wrist and started on another egg salad sandwich while he thought about his answer. "Because she affected my life," he told Neil after a few pieces. "She did something for me," something he had been too weak to do for himself - which rankled him to acknowledge, even to himself, "and then she changed my memories." Even if she'd done what she'd did to help him out, he didn't like how she'd tampered with his mind like that. How she'd hidden the truth from him and replaced it with lies.

Neil was quiet while Andrew finished the second sandwich, but didn't eat the last bit of his own. "In my experience, people don't react well when someone talks about winged creatures in all seriousness. It was for your benefit, what she did to your memories."

"That's for me to decide," Andrew stated as he reached into the bag for a brownie. "Now, my turn again. What are you?" When Neil stiffened beside him, he gave the redhead a flat look. "How do you do things like the disappearing act, the stuff with your eyes and knowing Furies? I think we can forget the theory of you being some lab experiment."

"You don't want to know," Neil told him, his voice taking on that harsh, echoing quality once again.

"Yes, I do," Andrew insisted as he broke off a piece of the brownie.

Moving fast enough to be a grey blur, Neil was off of the car and standing in front of it, once more the unearthly being from the day before with the too-pale skin, luminescent eyes and flame-like hair. " _Ask another question_." There was a force to the words, a command to them, yet Andrew felt that familiar anger, that heat, fill him at the thought of someone telling him what to do. It made him give Neil a flat stare in return, to chase away the intense chill which radiated from the idiot.

" _No_."

Neil blinked at the curt response, seemingly taken back, then tried to rally. "You don't want to-"

"Yes, I do," Andrew told him. " _I want to know_."

Now Neil lost some of his haughtiness as he bit into his full bottom lip, as he once more hugged his arms around himself. "You... you won't like what you learn. No one does." The words were spoken in a quiet voice, almost drowned out by the faint rush of traffic behind them and the rustling of the various plants down in the culvert.

"Let me be the judge of that, I'm not like most people." Andrew ate the last piece of brownie and leaned forward. "Start talking."

There was a faint sigh before Neil did as he'd been told, still appearing so inhuman and untouchable. "There are... beings of power," he said, his voice taking on even more of an echo and an odd weight. "Beings of importance who are tasked to ensure that... oh, from your perspective, I suppose you would look at it as we ensure that the universe runs the way it should."

Andrew noticed that 'we' and narrowed his eyes while he drank some soda. "So what, you're a god?"

"Not me, though gods exist and play their own part in things." Neil cocked his head to the side as he regarded Andrew. "Gods are more the creation of living things, are pulled into being based on your needs and whims, but they have their own power and roles to play and shouldn't be discarded lightly."

"But you're not one of them, and neither is a Fury, right?"

"No, I am not," Neil agreed.

"So what are you? Something more powerful than a god?" That was what it sounded like to Andrew.

Neil stilled at the question, and at Andrew's next breath, the coldness became unbearable, the brightness of Neil's eyes became so intense that Andrew could no longer look at them directly, could only notice how the brilliant light cast sharp shadows on Neil's face, cast hollows beneath those angular cheekbones and elegant nose until it was almost as if his visage now appeared to be a skull. How his tousled curls waved about in a sudden wind as if in fact flames, how his skin was bled of any color until it turned into the starkest white.

How the asphalt beneath Neil's feet grew grey and cracked and crumbled, how the grass off to the side withered and blew away as dust, how the earth became parched and crackled as well. “ _I am the ending to all things_ ,” Neil said, his voice little more than a whisper yet it reverberated inside of Andrew, made the anger that always simmered inside of him sputter and flicker so low that he shivered with an aching chill that had drilled into his very core.

“You’re death,” he said as he stared at Neil. At ‘ _Neil_ ’.

“ _I am Death_ ,” Neil agreed, and when Andrew shivered again, the idiot disappeared in a whirl of sparks.

“You fucking, melodramatic idiot,” Andrew cursed as he rubbed at his arms in a desperate attempt to warm himself, and felt some of the chill disperse now that Neil had fled – and fleeing it had indeed been, fleeing like a fool coward. Who the _hell_ did something like that, made some huge reveal and then ran? Or, well, dematerialized or teleported or – _dammit_ , Andrew had more questions. So many more questions, and the idiot had left before he could ask them. Before Andrew had _said_ he could leave.

He was buying a fucking collar for Neil, just watch him.

Sliding off of the hood, mindful of the destroyed asphalt in front of him, Andrew tossed the soda aside but kept the remaining brownies for later and started the car so he could run a few errands, a new sense of purpose inside of him and the anger simmering once more, a welcome heat after that blast of cold.

******

Death stumbled into the apartment with a sharp pain in his chest; he pressed against his sternum while he shook his head to dispel the image of Andrew staring at him as if he was a monster, was something terrible and frightening.

“Neil? You’re back already?” Courage’s worried voice drifted down the hall and she poked her head into the bedroom, only to rush into the small room and fall to her knees beside him, which made some of the cats scatter away; normally he was bothered by her fussing, by her incessant need to smother him with attention, but just then the feel of her fingers combing through his hair stirred a long buried memory of his mother in his mind, of her touching him like this when he’d been a child and before they had been forced to run. “What happened? Is something wrong?”

“Andrew,” he said, his voice weak and strained.

Courage’s touch stilled and she went stiff beside him. “What about the mortal? Did he hurt you? What did he do? Do you want me to skin him alive or set the-“

“No.” He forced his eyes to open and his back to straighten as he looked up at her; unlike his mother, she was taller than him, her face rounder and coloring darker, hair shorter and… and she was so much gentler than his mother had been. He really didn’t know what to do with this Courage with her concern and worry and always gentle touches, not when the Courage he’d grown up with had been so sharp and harsh and tense. “It wasn’t like that,” he tried to explain. “It….” He huddled over a little more while he shook his head. “Why does it hurt so much?”

She sighed as she once more stroked her fingers through his hair. “Okay, sweetie, you need to explain things a little better to me, you need to tell me what’s going on. What’s hurting you?” She sounded worried, probably because really, what could hurt them?

“It’s my chest,” he tried to explain. “There’s this pain in my chest.” He rubbed at it and sighed. “Before it felt tight and warm and tingly, but now it hurts.”

“All right, what happened to make it hurt?” Courage scooted around until she sat down in front of him, and a couple of the cats came over to rub against him. “You went out with Andrew, and now you came back and you’re in pain.”

He shook his head. “He wanted to know things, to know the truth.” He slid his hands along the head of the grey cat. “So I told him.”

Courage was quiet as she pet the black cat. “Okay then. Did you tell him the truth about _everything_?”

He nodded. “He asked about Tisiphone and I told him what she was, that I knew her. Then he asked about me.” He looked up from the cat and noticed her anxious expression. “It went… that’s when the pain started.”

Courage was quiet while she stroked her fingers along the black cat’s back, its loud purr filling the small room. “So you told him the truth and he freaked out? He ran away or fainted or did the usual stuff?”

Death shook his head. “He _looked_ at me.” He rubbed at the grey cat’s ears and earned a quiet purr as a result. “And trembled.”

“Oh for-“ Courage buried her face in her free hand. “So you what, you ran away because he stared at you and he ‘trembled’. Do you have any idea what you look like or what happens when you go full-out Aspect?”

“Uhm… no?” How would Death be able to see himself like that?

“And now you’re in pain as a result?”

“Yes.” What did she know?

Courage let out a low moan. “Okay, this is getting ridiculous.” She pet the cat one last time and then stood up, the same time she grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to stand up as well. “Look, I get why some of the others think it’s amusing, how oblivious you are about stuff. About things like cell phones and movies and… well, dealing with people. But this is going too far and it’s about time you figure something out.”

“Figure what out?” This wasn’t going to be like that time when she made him go a medical theatre after he’d ranted about the sudden rise in deaths due to human butchers interfering with things – he’d been right, for the most part, because his workload had increased for a couple of decades before it slowly started to creep back down.

She petted him on the shoulders a couple of times as if he was one of the cats. “You’re going to see Desire. Now.”

“Uhm, okay.” He thought about that for a moment then frowned. “Why?” It wasn’t as if he had a problem in seeing Desire, it was just that he didn’t have much of a cause to see that particular Named One; their paths didn’t cross often and they had very different interests.

“No questions,” Courage told him with a stern look. “Go see them right now.”

He tried to argue again, but if there was one way that both Courages were the same, it was that they were very stubborn and he never could hold out against them for very long; after heaving a very weary and displeased sigh, he searched out Desire and went to visit his fellow Named One.

It wasn’t that much of a surprise to find Desire in a club of all places, or in Paris, which was one of their favorite cities. Any metropolis was favored by Desire, who enjoyed being around people, who enjoyed comfort and indulgence and attention. Death found them surrounded by fawning people trying to attract their attention, but once they caught sight of him, they waved the people aside – that and his presence helped to drive the small crowd away.

“To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” Desire asked; it looked as if they were in the VIP lounge of an upscale club, and Desire lounged on a velvet covered bench, dressed in what was no doubt a very expensive and tailored suit that covered a body which was on the lean side with long legs and a narrow waist. It could be a male swimmer’s build or a woman’s with defined shoulders and upper arms, not that Death cared. Desire was always ambiguous to him, always showed him a pleasant yet unremarkable face with dark blond hair slicked back and grey eyes, slightly familiar but nothing that ever stirred a faint interest in him. To everyone else, Desire was whatever one wanted them to be, was an object of affection and want and… well _, desire_.

“I don’t know,” Death confessed. “Courage sent me here for some reason.”

“Ah yes, the meddler.” Desire smirked as they held up a glass of what looked to be champagne. “What is she after now, a test to see if your heart is still pure?” They went to take a sip and then gasped. “No, it _can’t_ be.”

“Can’t be what?” Death frowned at Desire, displeased with the way they were talking about Courage and a bit confused as well – was there something with the lights in the room? Desire’s hair seemed to be lighter than usual, had become almost white in color.

“Oh ho, _now_ I get it.” Desire set the glass aside and leaned forward with a wide, pleased grin on their face. “I’ll have to thank Courage for this little gift, something I thought would never come.” For some reason Desire’s voice had grown deeper as well; they rose to their feet in a graceful manner and approached Death, who all of a sudden was nervous of them. “No, all this time I thought I’d meet you at my end on unequal footing, without ever having you under my domain. But that’s not the case anymore, is it?”

“What are you talking about?” Why did Death feel that warm tingling feeling again, why had his heart begun to race? Why were Desire’s eyes no longer grey but a hazel color? “You… you don’t look the same anymore. What are you doing?”

“And why is that, hmm?” Desire began to circle Death with that cheshire-like grin on their face and their strange eyes locked on Death. “Who is he? Who is the man who’s ensnared you at last? He _must_ be something special.”

“He? I don’t know who you’re-“ Death gasped when he realized that Desire looked like Andrew with the pale blond hair and the hazel eyes, except that Andrew had never smiled like that at him. All of a sudden the warm, tingling sensation went away and Desire’s features returned to ‘normal’.

“Ah, he must _truly_ be something special,” Desire said, the deep tone gone from their voice as well. “He’s already sunk his hooks in deep, hasn’t he? How the mighty have fallen.”

“That’s not possible,” Death gritted out as he rubbed at his chest once more. “I don’t _want_ anyone.”

Desire’s smile took on a sad twist as they went back to sit down. “Of course you don’t, dear. So few people truly _want_ to end up one of mine, even if they claim they do. I’m indiscriminate, I’m merciless, I’m whimsical and I’m often cruel. Sometimes I’ll give you everything you could ever hope for, and sometimes I’ll take away everything you ever wanted.” They paused to have some champagne. “Sometimes I’ll do both.” They lowered the glass to regard Death with cool grey eyes. “But you… hmm, something tells me this is going to be interesting.”

Death didn’t want to hear anything more so he fled, he went to return to the apartment but something stopped him short of the place because he didn’t want to deal with Courage and Compassion, with facing them and admitting to what he had discovered. So he wandered around for a while in an attempt to lose himself in his work, in dealing with various souls and gradually drifting closer to the city where he was pretending to be human. To where Andrew lived.

The mortal – mostly mortal – he apparently desired, the only person he’d ever felt that way about in a very, _very_ long life.

A mortal who was disgusted and afraid of him now.

Death had just tended to a woman, Leona Alma Alvarado, eighty-four years old, death by congestive heart failure, and was about to leave when he felt a brush of power that made him stiffen in hatred and rage. “What are you doing here?”

“What, no mongrel tonight?” Deception asked as he leaned against the doorway of the small, hospital-like room with that detested smirk on his face, his black clothes seeming to merge into the shadows flowing out into the hallway. “Did you leave him at home?”

“I don’t need him to deal with a poltroon like you,” Death said, which… which was a partial truth; he was somewhat hampered by the current environment, by so many fragile lives all around him, so many humans teetering on the edge of their own endings, which was probably why Deception had come to corner him here, in this building.

Deception gave him a ravenous smile as he stepped into the room, and Death caught sight of the gleaming knife covered in runes held in the prick's right hand. "But you care so much about these pathetic little worms, you do your job so well when it comes to collecting their meager sparks." Disgust twisted Deception's face for a moment, only for the hunger to quickly return the closer he crept forward. "It makes you predictable."

"Predict this, _sie_ _Schwanzlutscher_ ," Death spat as his power flared, and for a moment he drank in the sight of Deception's detested face twisting in pain, in seeing the man who had delighted in hurting and tormenting him stumble to his knees - and then Death felt the lives around him weaken and one or two begin to prematurely fade out, which made him draw in a sharp breath along with his power.

It was the opening that the prick needed; Deception lunged forward and slashed the charmed knife across Death's chest the same time that he muttered words of binding, as he used Death's old name against him. Death cried out in pain and surprise as he struggled against the spell, as he fought against Deception's fingers clenched tight in his hair and the feel of a body pressed against his back, as the knife cut into his chest.

The prick was trying to carve a sigil into his flesh - something to bind him, to mark him as _Deception's_ , to act as a magical chain. Death felt a flare of power inside of him, a spark of rage and a burst of warmth that aided him in breaking free, in shaking off the hold Deception had on him from the remnants of his former name, from the old spells that had been cast all those millennia ago. As soon as he out of the prick's grasp, he slipped _between_ while Deception cursed in frustration.

He went to his 'home', to the space that had been his own for so long, and huddled on the old chaise longue which he'd picked up in Calais well over a century ago, the one with the plush orange velvet strewn with soft blankets. Blankets now splattered with blood as he curled up on it, the cuts slow to heal because of the mystical nature of the wounds, until he grew tired of the mess and returned to the apartment in Oakland.

It wasn't a surprise to find Courage and Compassion still up as if waiting for him, and they took one look at him before shoving him onto the couch and yanking off his now ruined top. "What happened?" Courage demanded to know, her eyes glowing gold as her hands hovered over the cuts. "That's part of a binding spell, isn't it?"

"I ran into Deception," he told her, and winced at the fury that radiated from her upon him speaking the prick's name. Fury which he partially deserved for not fleeing the moment he saw the prick, for being goaded into fighting instead.

Meanwhile, Compassion was just as furious but more a cold counterpart to his fellow Virtue. "I'll go get what we need," he said before slipping _between_ , which left Death to deal with Courage.

"So that _apenaaier_ is trying to bind you now? That's his plan?" Rage made her bite off the end of each word as if she found them offensive.

"That seems to be it." Death went to shrug and winced again as the motion tugged on the cuts. "He cornered me in one of those homes for the elderly, and I couldn't defend myself outright." Not unless he broke a rule and culled from the humans without care or distinction.

She was quiet for a moment while she dabbed at his chest with the ruined shirt. "I thought you said that Andrew promised to protect you." When he was quiet, she looked up at him. "You need to keep him around."

He didn't want to talk about Andrew, not after seeing Desire, and that resolve must have shown on his face because she sighed. "No, this is serious, if Deception managed to get part of a sigil on you. You need Andrew."

"He's mortal." A mortal whom Death wanted.

"A mortal who's one of Apollo's own," Courage countered, which made Death regret passing on that bit of information. "A mortal who's already driven off Deception once. You know you can't do too much to the dickhead because of the Rules - you can't 'end' him before his time."

"So Andrew should be placed in danger because of me?" The mere thought of that made something inside of Death's chest ache more than the cuts. " _No_."

" _Yes_ ," Courage insisted. "Besides, I don't think you have much of a choice." A hint of a smile curled her full lips. "He was here for most of the evening last night, until we forced him to leave." At his confused look, she nodded. "He wanted to wait for you to return home, had something to give to you and everything, and wasn't happy that you were out 'running around'." Then her smile faded. "I should have gone with you, but I thought it best that you realize things on your own."

He hunched over on the couch, his arms wrapped around his waist as misery filled him at the thought of Andrew being involved in everything. "I... I can't... he's-"

"Yes you can," Courage told him with conviction. "It's about damn time you've found someone." She hesitated for a moment before reaching out to tousle his hair with her left hand. "You're not meant to be all alone, you know."

"But I'm _Death_ ," he told her. "Andrew knows that now."

"And he doesn't seem to care. In fact-"

Compassion slipped back into the living room with his arms full of various things that looked like gauze and bottles and jars. "All right, I went to Abigail since she was nearby," he said in a rush. "Rosemary, rue, and St. John's wort, that should do it, don't you think?" He gave an anxious look Courage's way. "That's what she recommended, and I grabbed some marigold as well."

Courage got up to check the various items then nodded before she motioned for him to set them down on the coffee table. "Okay, this is probably going to sting," she warned Death as she opened what looked to be a bottle of some tincture that smelled of St. John's wort and damped some of the gauze then used the cloth to clean the cuts.

It did sting, but it wasn't as bad as some of the injuries he'd gotten over his long life so he just clenched his jaw and focused on the souls passing on, and soon enough the wounds had been cleaned, rubbed with salve and his chest wrapped with gauze.

"There," Courage told him once she was finished. "They’ll probably need a couple of days to heal, so take it easy."

Compassion paused in gathering up the jars to give Death a stern look. "You know you have to be careful now, right? That asshole has partially marked you - if he finishes things, he might be able to make that spell work."

"I'm aware of that," Death snapped, and only the look of concern on his friend's face kept him from leaving or saying something in anger, made him sit on the couch as he ran his fingers through his hair. "I didn't... I didn't think he still had any claim on me, that anything he did back then...." He let out a deep, shuddering breath and shook his head.

"We're not omnipotent," Courage told him in a soft voice laden with worry. "No matter how much we'd like to believe that, no matter how much the years weigh down upon us."

"Yes," he said after a minute's silence. "I think... I'll be in my room," he told her and Compassion as he rose to his feet, all of a sudden feeling tired and drained. "Thank you."

"We're here for you," Compassion assured him. "You're not alone."

No, but perhaps he should be, if Deception was determined to make a proper fight out of things, to finish what had been started all those many years ago. Because it had cost Death - it had cost _Abram_ his mother, had cost one Courage already, and he didn't want to lose anyone else to the prick again. Didn't want to lose another Courage or Virtue, didn't want Wrath to pay any more than he already had, didn't want to lose... didn't want to lose _Andrew_.

It would be better to pass on his Name and Aspect if it came down to that, he decided as he entered his room and sank to the floor, as he allowed the grey cat curl up in his lap and nudge his right hand for attention.

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *******  
> And the truth for truth bargain finally happens! Neil is a little less oblivious! (FINALLY) A LITTLE.
> 
> I'm having a bit of fun in the next chapter.
> 
> Hmm, was there something I wanted to comment about? Lately there's something I wanted to comment about and then I post and I forget all about it.
> 
> As always, the comments and kudos are greatly appreciated.  
> *******


	9. Death Gives and Receives a Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... yet another familiar character shows up. You know I had to bring him in at some point.
> 
> And just because Neil/Death has finally bought a clue, doesn't mean he's still not utterly oblivious about some things.  
> *******

*******

Andrew was up early Sunday morning, having gotten little sleep during the night after returning home from Neil's apartment. His dreams had been dark, turbulent things, had been filled with images of flames and bronze feathers floating in the air and him shoving his knives into a smirking Riko's body while Neil lay crumpled on the ground. At one point he'd woken up in a rage and drenched in sweat with his heart pounding, with his body so hot that it felt as if he was burning up inside and filled with a certainty that something bad had happened to Neil, so much so that he almost went over to the idiot's apartment. Except the idiot most likely wouldn't be there, would he? Neil had gotten it into his head to go off somewhere, to run from Andrew, from the person who had sworn to _protect_ him.

All because the idiot thought that a little thing like him being _Death_ would scare Andrew away.

Dressed and ready for the day, Andrew entered the kitchen for some coffee and a light snack to hold him over until he hit a drive-thru, and found a gaping Bee still dressed in her robe standing by the sink. "I'm seeing things, aren't I?" she said in a quiet, disbelieving voice. "What the _hell_ is Abby putting in this tea blend?" She raised the mug in her right hand to her nose and took a deep sniff, her nose crinkling a moment later.

"Very funny," Andrew told his adopted mother. "I'm going out and won't be coming back before my shift, so tell Nicky he's stuck getting his own ride in today." Maybe Erik would chauffer him around, or Bee could do it.

"Okay." Bee watched him pour a mug of coffee that looked to be just brewed. "This another research project?"

"No, I'm going to track someone down and throttle them," he told her. "Don't worry, they deserve it so there won't be any charges pressed against me."

"That's a relief," Bee said after a moment's hesitation, during which she dumped what smelled and looked to be some awful brackish water into the sink then poured coffee into the mug instead; he knew she was trying to be a bit better about her health, but what the hell indeed? "It has to do with that Neil again, doesn't it?" She watched as he gave a negligent shrug. "You seem to be getting awfully caught up with him, should I be concerned?"

Because it was Bee asking that question, Andrew gave it some consideration while he sipped his sweetened coffee before he shrugged again. "I'm doing what I think best with him," was what he settled on in the end, unable to better put into words his... _whatever_ with Neil than that. His need to protect the idiot, the pull between them... just _everything_.

Bee regarded him for a few more seconds before giving him a slight smile. "All right, I trust you. Let me know if there's anything I can do, short of actual throttling.”

Andrew almost said 'invent a cure for stupidity', but knew some things he'd just have to suffer through.

He finished his coffee then went to his bedroom to pick up the bag meant for a certain idiot, and was on his way to Neil's apartment within a few minutes while enjoying a cigarette. It didn't take him too long to get there that early on a Sunday morning even after stopping for food, and as he parked his car in the lot next to the building, he thought he saw a familiar figure across the street, a tall man with black hair and pale skin wearing dark clothes who was gone when Andrew glanced over again after making sure that his car was locked.

He shifted the two bags to his left hand so his right was free, and paid close attention as he made his way into the building and up to the third floor, to the one couple who appeared to be going out on a walk with their over-sized rat on a leash and a miserable-looking guy who was stumbling down the hall to what better be his own apartment.

The door to 3C opened on the second knock to reveal a glowering Matt, whose expression smoothed out when he recognized Andrew. "You're here early, aren't you?"

"Does it matter?" Andrew shouldered past him into the spacious apartment filled with light and the odor of something burnt, possibly toast; good thing he'd brought his own breakfast. "Is the idiot here?"

"Eh? Oh, you mean Neil. Yeah, he's in his room." Matt took a hasty step back and laughed when Andrew charged past him, intent on catching Neil before he 'ran' again.

What he found when he entered the small room was a bunch of cats, which wasn't a surprise, and Neil sitting hunched over as if in pain in one of the windows while wearing a loose, hooded zipped sweatshirt that hung from his narrow shoulders. Andrew got a whiff of pungent herbs when he stepped closer, and caught the mix of blue and silver in the... could Neil be considered a 'teenager'? Just how old was he?

"What did you do?" Andrew asked as he came to a stop about a foot away, and scowled when he noticed a hint of shimmer around Neil despite the sunlight streaming in from the window. " _Don't_ ," he warned as the anger rose to the fore once more. "Don't you dare rabbit again."

Neil let out a shaky breath and urged the grey cat on his lap to jump to the floor, then combed his trembling right hand through his tangled hair. "I'm... I'm not certain that it's exactly what I've done," he said in a quiet voice as he stared at Andrew's feet.

After setting the bags down on the nightstand, Andrew slowly reached out to touch Neil on the chest, and frowned when Neil flinched as a result - frowned both at the reaction and at the fact that he felt some padding beneath the zipped sweatshirt. "What are you hiding from me?"

Neil stirred at the question. "Isn't it my turn now?" he asked, his long bangs falling to hide his eyes from view.

"Then ask it and show me what you're hiding," Andrew demanded, the idiot’s evasiveness doing nothing for his temper.

The room was quiet save for the rustle of the bedspread as the cats shifted about and crunching sounds as one of them ate from a food bowl, and then Neil let out a slow breath. "Are you afraid of me?" he asked, his voice quiet and devoid of any emotion.

Andrew scoffed at that. "Only of the heights to which your stupidity can go." When Neil finally looked up at him, Andrew clicked his tongue and tugged at the zipper of the hoodie. "Now take it off." Before he started punching something, because the longer it took for him to get an answer, the worse he suspected the damage that Neil was hiding from him.

A flush spread across Neil's face as he shook his head and his right hand raised to bat at Andrew's, only for Andrew to catch it and give it a gentle squeeze. "You- that's... how can you say that?" Neil sputtered, his eyes wide and cheeks bright red.

"I open my mouth and speak." Andrew refused to be distracted by the sight before him. "The shirt, get rid of it." He wanted to see what Neil was hiding right away so he could figure out how pissed off he should be at the idiot – at Neil and at Riko, he was willing to bet.

Now the flush started to fade as the idiot ducked his head again. "It's not... well, there's...." He gave up speaking and shook his head.

Andrew already knew there would be scars, he wanted to see what had happened after Neil had 'run' last night. "Just show me, all right?" Still holding on to Neil's right hand, he gave it another gentle squeeze. "It's okay," he promised then let it go.

Neil peeked at him through the unruly curls falling into his eyes then nodded once. His motions slow and jerky, he unzipped the hoodie, revealing a mix of white bandages and silvery lines on what should be smooth skin, a tracery of patterns that twisted about his ribs and abdomen and even his collarbones, that went up over his shoulder until Andrew wondered if they extended down his back.

Andrew had to force the burning anger, that tempestuous, writhing heat inside of him to bank down enough so he could think, that he could keep from grabbing something and smashing it against the walls and floors, that he could refrain from pulling his knives and stabbing them into something, _anything_ , and let out a slow breath. "Who did all of that to you?" The words came out quiet as well, but with a deceptive lack of emotion which betrayed too many being held at bay.

Neil sat there in the window with the overlarge hoodie draped over his arms and that ridiculous hair falling onto his face and shivered a little, but Andrew didn't think it was because he was cold. "My father and De- Riko," he said.

"Why?" Andrew's fingers twitched from the need to feel his blades sinking into the flesh of those two men, of feeling their warm blood well up against his skin.

"Because... because it was an attempt to bind me to them, to break me and... and I think they enjoyed it." Neil shivered again and rubbed at his face with his right hand. "Because I dared to run and deserved to be punished."

Andrew closed the bit of space between them in an instant and had the idiot's face cupped between his hands before he realized what he'd done, to force Neil to look up at him. "It's not your fault, none of this is," he ground out. "You don't deserve _any_ of this."

Neil stared up at him as quicksilver swirled in those big blue eyes of his and a sad smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Whatever the reasons, it doesn't stop them."

"Then _I_ will," Andrew promised, the words heartfelt and true. "What happened last night? Was it them again?"

Neil would have ducked his head, except Andrew didn't let him. "It was Riko." He sighed and closed his eyes but stopped trying to pull away. "He managed... he knows my weaknesses, knows what I'm unwilling to do and used it against me. Used... well, he attempted to bind me to him, but I escaped before he could."

Andrew considered that for a moment before he let go of Neil with some reluctance and stepped away. "Listen to me because I _really_ hate to repeat myself," he said as he went over for one of the bags he'd brought. "You don't go running off like you did last night, not if this guy is after you and can track you down. You don't go anywhere alone." When Neil glared at him, he shook his head. "No, you've got those friends of yours out there, you stay with them or you call me."

"But I can't call you," Neil argued.

"Now you can." Andrew tossed him the phone he'd bought yesterday and set up last night, the same model as his own. "I don't want to hear any stupid excuses, you use that."

Neil stared at the device as if it might twist about in his hand and bite him. "But I don't know how to use it."

"I'll show you, it's not that difficult, especially if you can figure out everything in the shop." Andrew resumed scowling at the idiot. "You use that and you don't go anywhere alone, you understand? I can't protect you if you're halfway around the world falling into some damn trap."

"You know what I am," Neil said, the confusion on his face growing. "I can't just- this is insane."

"No, what's crazy is leaving yourself open to someone who is only too happy to carve you up like some damn- you call me and you don’t go running off by yourself, don’t make me say it again,” Andrew warned.

Neil shrugged the hoodie back up onto his shoulders while his eyes flared silver and he radiated cold, the cats in the room stilling as he spoke. “But I’m _Death_.”

“You’re a fucking idiot, is what you are,” Andrew told him. “And you’re about to be smacked by me and have a collar snapped around your neck.”

Neil – oh, excuse him, _Death_ – blinked at Andrew and was more Andrew’s idiot, was all big blue eyes and confused expression and hunched in on himself as if he sat there with ‘what the hell is going on?’ whirling around in his empty fool head. “I don’t… this doesn’t happen to me,” Neil whispered as if to himself, the phone clutched to his bandaged chest. “I don’t understand.”

“Not my fault.” Andrew eyed him for a moment then went to fetch the other bag, which that bastard grey and black cat was swatting at while standing on its hind legs. “Now eat something, and don’t give me any shit about it.” He fished out an egg and biscuit sandwich and handed it over.

Staring at the thing in a manner similar to the phone, which got tucked into a pocket of the hoodie, Neil peeled back the paper wrapping and took a small, tentative bite of the breakfast sandwich before seeming to decide that it wasn’t bad. Andrew motioned for him to move over on the windowsill so he could sit down as well and ate the rest of the sandwiches while pulling out his own phone and walking Neil through its various features.

“I suppose it’s much less effort than some spells I can think of,” Neil said as he looked at his own phone, once he was done with his sandwich.

“Not all of us can lob spells about, imagine that,” Andrew said, which earned him a blank look. “I programmed my number in there already so you can call me at any time.”

“You do realize that by staying at my side, Riko will consider you as a nuisance to be eliminated, don’t you?”

“I don’t care,” Andrew told the idiot. “And I’m not someone to be taken lightly, so _Riko_ is in for a big surprise.” He knew what he wanted his next question to be, but it wasn’t his turn yet.

It was quiet for almost a minute as Neil tucked his phone away again and zipped up the hoodie, a thoughtful expression on his damn attractive face. Then he glanced aside at Andrew. “Why are you doing this? The phone, helping me out, protecting me? Why?”

“Because you need it,” Andrew said, which was… it was part of the truth. There was more to it than that, but when he tried to pin it down, to think of it, it slipped away and left an odd feeling inside of him, left him wanting to do things to the oblivious idiot that he refused to do. “Because I don’t like the thought of bastards like them hurting someone like you.” Again, the truth, but only part of it.

Neil was quiet again while his white teeth worried at his full bottom lip, something that Andrew wanted to do himself in the worst way, dammit. When Neil spoke again, it was in a quiet tone but without any hesitation or confusion, was with a surety that was often lacking in his voice except for when he did that whole ‘Death’ thing. “I was Abram, back when I was… when I wasn’t what I am now,” Neil said as he twisted about a little on the windowsill to better face Andrew. “I never was mortal, not with two Named Ones as parents, but I didn’t have much power of my own, other than a bit of magic. Maybe one day I’d take over as a Virtue or Vice, but that wasn’t a given. I was just _Abram_.”

He’d been Abram, until his father and Riko had carved him up and hurt him, and then he’d become Death, from what Andrew understood. “So you’re not Abram anymore?”

“No.” Neil shook his head. “Not once I took on this Aspect and Name. At least, I shouldn’t be, but maybe there is still some small part of him in me, something that Riko is trying to use against me for the binding spell.” He took a deep breath as he regarded Andrew with luminous eyes filled with starlight while the rest of him remained ‘normal’. “If so, I’m giving it to _you_ , along with that name.”

Somehow, Andrew doubted that it was as simple as Neil telling him that his name used to be ‘Abram’, not when he felt the familiar heat associated with his rage flood through his body, yet he didn’t want to break anything, to hurt Neil, instead he leaned toward the redhead. “Yes or no,” he asked while Neil remained still.

“Yes,” Neil breathed out as he closed the space between them, and then his lips brushed against Andrew’s.

At first it was a simple press of the lips, a gesture as if sealing a bargain, and Andrew felt something akin to an electrical jolt go through him, felt something pass into him at the touch, and then the kiss deepened as he leaned forward a little more, as his right hand reached out to cup Neil’s face and stroke over smooth skin, as Neil let out a faint whine and parted his lips. The heat flared inside of him, turned into a demanding hunger as his fingers slid through cool strands and his lips pressed hard enough to feel teeth against them, his tongue swiping in deep and-

As soon as he realizes what he was doing, he pulled away from a flushed Neil with a curse. “Dammit.” He stood on his feet in a rush while Neil sat there with that damn puzzled frown on his face.

“Ah, why did you stop?”

“What the fuck?” Andrew was ready to start with the breaking of things just then. “What _, now_ you’re fine with it?” Had someone finally bought a fucking clue?

“Well, it was rather unexpected, but,” Neil paused as if to think about something, “huh, I guess that’s why everyone does it so much.”

There had to be alcohol in the apartment somewhere, and Andrew was going to find it, to hell with the fact that it wasn’t even nine in the morning yet on a Sunday and he had to work in a couple of hours.

Neil followed him out of the room, which at first Andrew was ready to object to, until he realized that it was his turn to ask questions. He barely got into the hallway when Dan and Matt appeared from the other bedroom with anxious expressions on their faces. "Where's the alcohol?" Andrew asked them.

"Uhm, the kitchen," Matt said while motioning in that direction, and as Dan frowned and looked at Neil.

"What happened?" she asked the idiot. "Is everything all right?"

"Uh, he gave me a phone and something to eat, while I gave him my old true name," Neil explained. "Oh, and we kissed. It was surprisingly pleasant." He didn't have to sound so astonished by that, but then again, that was why Andrew was in the kitchen rummaging through the cupboards looking for - ah, _there_ it was, a bottle of vodka. It would do.

A widely grinning Matt handed him a glass, which Andrew ignored to drink straight from the bottle. "He's a late bloomer," the moron said, while Dan gave a rather uncomfortable looking Neil a gentle hug.

"He's an idiot," Andrew declared. "And how old is he, really?" Maybe he could find that out without having to waste one of his questions.

Matt's smile weakened a little. "He's considered young, for one of us."

'Us', now wasn't that interesting? Andrew had another swig of vodka while Dan put on some water for tea. "So, it's my turn now," he told Neil, who sidled closer to him while pulling up the hood of his sweatshirt. "Who or what is Riko, really?"

Matt and Dan stilled at that and focused their attention on Neil, who went to rub at his chest before he seemed to think better of it. "Riko was his name before he took on an Aspect," Neil said, slender fingers once more tugging at the damn hood. "Before he became Deception."

Just hearing that word - Deception - did something to Andrew, brought forth a bit of the rage inside of him. "So what, he's like the god of lies or something?" he asked as he did his best to push the anger back down and had some more alcohol.

Neil shook his head, his expression too blank at the moment. "No, he _is_ Deception, he is lies and deceit and... because he exists, there are those things. There are falsehoods and tall tales and... he's not a god, he's so much more than that. A god can be forgotten and fade away, but he can't. There will always be a Deception, either him or whomever he passes the Name onto, until almost the end," Neil explained, and something in the way he spoke just then made it sound like he didn’t care for the bastard any better than Andrew did. "Until there's just me, just Death."

Well, that didn’t sound promising, but Andrew would figure out a way to work around it – he liked challenges, after all. Not really, but they kept him from being too bored; right now, he wouldn’t be bored until this ‘Riko’ was dead in one way or another.

"He's not the most powerful of us out there," Dan said as she fetched a couple of mugs from one of the cupboards. "But he has a lot of influence over people."

Andrew considered that for a moment then gave a pointed look at her and Matt. "What about the two of you? What are you?" Neil stirred at the question, but since it wasn't directed at him, he couldn't interfere.

Dan bared her teeth at Andrew in an expression that could hardly be considered a smile, but surprised him by answering. "I'm Courage and he's Compassion." Matt waved at him in response while Andrew frowned, something tugging at his memory.

"That... sounds familiar." Sounded like something from one of his foster homes; he’d remember it soon enough, it just took a while to dig through everything sometimes – especially when he did his best to forget some things. Anything associated with his foster homes, usually.

"We're considered 'Virtues'," Dan continued as she added teabags into the mugs, saving him the hassle, "though we don't all hang out together and you guys didn't get us exactly right. There's Vices as well, and the Muses and Graces."

And Furies, apparently, which left Andrew with the suspicion that they were just scratching the surface of things. "So what, the three of you don't have anything better to do than hang out in a lame coffee shop?"

Neil took to tugging on his hoodie again, a nervous tick if Andrew had ever seen one. "I, uhm, I just... I don't get you. Mortals, I mean."

"What Neil's trying to say is, it's a learning experience for him." Matt smiled at the idiot with obvious affection while Dan grabbed the kettle off of the stove and poured the hot water into the prepared mugs. "Every couple of centuries he gives it another try, so Dan and I figured we'd help out this time." Then his smile was wiped away as he stared at Neil's chest. "And keep an eye out on him.”

They were doing such a great job of it, weren't they, Andrew thought as he had more vodka, even as part of him registered that 'couple of centuries' comment. So much for thinking of Neil as a fellow 'teenager'.

Then something else occurred to Andrew. "Wait, what is Erik? Is he another 'Named One'?" He better not be something like 'Lust' or 'Unfaithfulness', or Andrew would test that implied immortality thing earlier than expected.

When Neil went to speak, he shook his head and covered the idiot's mouth with his left hand, which earned him a surprised blink, and gestured to Matt; he didn't want to use up any truths when there were people willing to give them to him for free. "Well?"

"Erik's what you would call an elf," Matt told him, that annoying grin back in place.

"What, he's a fairy?" This was starting to get ridiculous now, Andrew needed more liquor.

Dan frowned from where she was fixing the tea and came over to hand a mug to Neil, which meant that Andrew had to remove his hand from the idiot’s mouth, which he'd forgotten that he'd left there. "No, that's two completely different things. He's an _elf_ ," she stressed. "What are they teaching you people these days?"

"Not mythological biology, I can tell you that much," Andrew shot back before having another sip of vodka. "How do you guys manage to survive? No one believes in this stuff anymore."

Neil shook his head as he stared at Andrew with the swirls of silver back in his eyes. "That's just it, a lot of us don't need your belief to exist - it's more that _you_ exist because of _us_. We were here before you, it's only after you're all gone that we'll fade away. The gods were your creation, and by 'you' I mean that loosely, but us?" He nodded in the direction of his friends, his expression solemn and eyes a mix of icy colors without any white or black, just two miniature, glimmering whirls of star clusters that Andrew could lose himself in. "We define you, and not just you."

Andrew gave him a blank look in return as he fought that odd pull between them, as he refused to be awed by the sight before him. "Ego much?"

While Neil blinked and his eyes returned to normal, his shoulders hunched forward as he drew in a little, Dan sighed. "We're not going to get into the whole big, boring debate on how much we serve and 'humans think they're the center of the universe', okay? It got old _centuries_ ago." She held a mug in her right hand and pointed the index finger of her left hand at Andrew. "That was a bit much, what he said, but he’s mostly right. Humans aren't the end all and be all of our existence, though humans on a whole tend to think they are. They're annoying that way, to be honest."

He really wanted to drain the entire bottle of vodka to make all of this shit bearable, but he had to work in a couple of hours. "Life is so hard, my heart bleeds for you." Then something else occurred to him. "So why am I being dragged into all of this? If you don't think too much about us 'humans', why are you putting up with me?" Why had Neil kissed one of them, given them his old name?

Matt spoke up from his spot next to Dan, his expression curious. "You didn't tell him that part yet?" At Neil's impressive glower, he held up his hands in a defensive manner. "Whoa! I mean, it’s a fair question, he's learned most of the important stuff already."

Oh, now that sounded interesting, didn't it? Andrew summoned a false smile as he set the bottle aside. "Tell me what, hmm?" He poked Neil in the side, mindful of where the bandages had ended. "Tell me what?"

Neil sighed and began to shimmer a little, but glares from both Andrew and Dan made him go solid in an instant. "This is ridiculous," he snapped, which earned him another poke. After muttering something indecipherable beneath his breath, he paused to drink some tea then took to biting his lip once he lowered his mug. "Ah, you're not entirely mortal," he finally said after stalling for almost a minute.

Andrew stared at his idiot as he flipped those words around in his head to see if they made any more sense in a different order and then gave up after several seconds. "All right, I'll go along with this insane game. What does that mean, 'not entirely mortal'? Is there a check box somewhere - Caucasian, Asian, African-American, mortal, not mortal?"

Neil sighed again and gave him a sour look as if he wasn't being the most cooperative of fellows, but Andrew was used to it and ignored it with ease. "It means that one of your ancestors - on your father's side since I'm not sensing the bloodline in Nicky - was the god Apollo." Neil fell quiet after that statement as if waiting for Andrew's reaction, once more hunched in on himself.

"Huh." Andrew crossed his arms over his chest and thought about it for a moment; how ironic, for Tilda - a preacher's daughter and sister - to get knocked up by a pagan god’s offspring. Oh yes, definitely amusing, maybe he'd bother to send her a card one day just to let her know - no return address or signed name or anything. That was, if he could find the appropriate card for the situation of 'you suck even more than you know'. Somehow he doubted Hallmark covered something like this. "Do you think I can get Apollo to pay for my tuition?" he asked. "I mean, probably too hard to track down the deadbeat who knocked up the loser incubator who's genetically my mother, but Apollo's still around, yes?"

Matt and Dan gaped at him while Neil held his mug of tea to his face as if a shield of some sorts. After several seconds, Dan shrugged and looked up at her boyfriend. "There's always something a bit off about demi-gods, but what can you do about it?"

"They do get a bit testy when you try to hold them down and neuter ‘em, gods do," Matt remarked in an off-hand manner as he fished what looked to be a bag of chips out of a cupboard. "All bitey and plagues of frogs and droughts and turning maidens into swans, so much of a hassle."

"And no sense of responsibility or common sense when it comes to those randy buggers, either," Dan said with evident exasperation as she frowned into her mug. "Some of them will stick their dick in _anything_." Then she appeared thoughtful for a moment. "Some of them _do_ stick their dick in anything." She narrowed her eyes at Andrew as she tapped her fingernails against the mug. "That's not going to be a problem here, _is it_?"

Andrew gave her a narrow look back before he turned to Neil, who seemed to be trying to pull his hood over his entire face. "How do you go about killing a Virtue?" he asked as he ran his right hand over his hidden armband.

"Maybe if I go to the Fates and abase myself to them?" Neil murmured as if he hadn't heard the question, fingers twitchy on the edge of his hood. "Just throw myself before them and apologize for whatever it was that I've done? Offer up a-"

" _No sacrifices_ ," Andrew reminded the idiot while shoving him on the back. "How many times do I have to tell you that!"

"Of course you'd say that, you're part of the plague they'd infested upon me," Neil whined as he peeked beneath his hood to glare at Andrew.

"Amusing. Just for that, you get to buy me a real breakfast," Andrew declared as he continued to shove the idiot, that time toward the corner bedroom. "Go on, change into something else since we'll go to work together."

"But you just ate!"

"That was a snack." Andrew rolled his eyes as the incredulous expression sent his way and kept shoving. "Some of us need to eat more than a couple of bites a day."

"You do know that as early as a century ago, people got by on as little as-"

"Too bad, it's not a century ago and you're still buying me breakfast, brunch or whatever else I feel like." By that point they'd reached the bedroom, so Andrew planted himself in the doorway and pointed to the dresser.  "Now pick out a decent top and hurry up, I'm hungry."  He had a slight buzz from drinking as well, and planned to go back to grab the remaining vodka to enjoy later.

Neil sighed in a very vocal manner as if to make it clear that he was being very put upon at the moment, but reached into one of the drawers to pull out a dark blue long-sleeve hooded t-shirt. Since his back was to Andrew at that point, Andrew could confirm that the scars did extend there as well, more curling silver lines of raised flesh carved in an intricate pattern, bar an odd mark here and there of an obvious burn or stray cut.

Andrew had suffered his own share of abuse in his years of foster homes, but he'd never seen anything as extensive as that. He wanted to meet the man who could have held down his own son and allowed that to happen, to have done that himself, and inflict an equal amount of harm on the bastard.

As soon as Neil was dressed, Andrew latched on to his left arm and dragged him out of the apartment, after a quick detour through the kitchen. With the bottle of vodka safely stashed in the glove compartment, Andrew took him to a small diner that didn't look like much (it looked about five minutes away from being shut down with a variety of health code violations, actually, which wasn't the case once you got inside) but had the best huevos rancheros in the area. Andrew ordered a double order for himself and one for a frowning Neil, along with some coffee and tea.

Neil poked a fork at his order. "I think I might have had something like this once before."

"Good, then shut up and eat it," Andrew told him as he began to cut up his food into small bites.

"A bit of respect would have been too much to ask for, wouldn't it?" Neil frowned at his plate, but he did try his meal and seemed to hum a little.

That bit of ridiculousness made Andrew scoff. "For you? Earn it if you want it." So far, the only thing that Neil had really done to impress him was to show off an obscure vocabulary - which he put to good use right then by calling Andrew something that sounded a bit Russian. Andrew just gave him a bland look in return and ate his breakfast.

Neil managed about half of his huevos rancheros before claiming he was full, then sat there watching Andrew eat with evident fascination. "I still think you have something to do with Gluttony," he remarked, his chin propped up on his left palm and a hint of a smile on his face.

"It's called a fast metabolism," Andrew explained; he'd always felt the need to eat as much as he could after years of living in homes where a decent meal wasn't a sure thing. Even after Bee had first taken him in and then adopted him, he had kept up the habit, though by then he was exercising a lot to burn off some excess energy. "You think it's part of... well, my father's side of the family?" he hedged, considering that they were out in public.

Neil shrugged while he studied the bottom of his mug. "I'm not sure; it's like Dan said, things get weird when you mix... bloodlines up, like yours."

Andrew thought about that for a moment then decided he didn't really care. "You make me sound like a damn pit bull or something."

"Hmm, more like a fox terrier, maybe?" Neil said, a hint of a smile on his lips. The comment earned him a displeased look while Andrew waved their server over for the bill.

They still had some time before they had to report to work (Andrew was a bit suspicious about how Wymack seemed to schedule their shifts together all of the time, but thought perhaps there had been enough of their truth game that day), so they went to a nearby bookstore so he could pick up some books on mythology. Neil gave him a strange look when he saw the titles of the books on the shelves in front of Andrew, but like back in the library, after a few seconds contemplation he began to pick various books as if at random.

"These would be best for you," he said. "There's always some sort of exaggeration or falsehood in them since it benefits few of us to have the complete truth to be told, but these aren't too bad."

Somehow, Andrew wasn't too surprised to hear that since Neil seemed to prefer to hold some part of the truth back, but the books would give him a start on figuring things out, a way to narrow down any future questions.

He made Neil buy the books as well, claiming that since the idiot had left early the day before he owed it to him, and got a weary sigh in return but no argument; he was wondering if there was a limit on that weird black card. Then they went to the café where Neil got tea and Andrew a mocha frappuccino and a slice of chocolate cake (Neil was learning to just pay for things at that point), where he read a couple of chapters before having to go to the Laughing Fox. "Huh, so Dan wasn't kidding about that 'sticking it anywhere' part, was she," he commented as he read about Zeus.

Neil had an odd expression on his face just then, a mix of distaste and fascination as if he disproved of the god but also couldn't help but be interested in his antics - Andrew supposed it was like Bee and her reality shows. "He is... well... yes," Neil settled on with a sense of finality.

Okay, then. "And Apollo?" Andrew lowered the book to look at him. "How bad is he?"

Neil did that biting his lower lip thing, which made Andrew want to lean over the table, grab the idiot's face between his hands and do the biting for him - Neil had said that the kiss was 'pleasant', so that meant it was okay to kiss him again, right? Not the time to be distracted, Andrew reprimanded himself. "Not as bad, which isn't saying much." He glanced up at Andrew with a hint of color to his cheeks. "He's more the obsessive type, if anything, which makes one wonder what your great-grandmother or grandmother was like to draw his attention."

Great, so assholes on both side of the family, just what Andrew wanted to hear. "Does he even care about any of us? My father or whoever I got to thank for not being fully-" he gestured to the people around him.

"No." Neil gave him a sad smile and held his cup of tea - Irish breakfast, of course - between his hands. "Him and his ilk usually only care if they have a use for their... well, their children of mixed heritage." He glanced around the café, which wasn't too busy for some reason. "Adventures or tasks or something to be accomplished that they're too lazy or unwilling to do themselves. That or can't do, because of the rules."

"Wait, rules? There's rules?" Hadn't Riko implied something like that the other day, had said something about Neil being 'proper', and then Neil back in the bedroom about being unwilling to do stuff? "How boring."

"Yes, I'm sure it seems that way to you, considering your larcenous habits," Neil drawled before he sipped his tea; Andrew waited until he lowered the cup before giving his ankle a gentle kick, which earned him a plaintive sigh. "The rules are there in part for your benefit, you know. Well, for-" his gaze flickered out into the bookstore, where people were browsing and standing about talking.

“What, you mean you just can’t do whatever you want? Then what’s the point of all that power?” Andrew asked.

“I believe it’s to keep one of us from taking over, to be honest,” Neil admitted. “From trying to wipe out each other and… well, let’s just say that some of my colleagues don’t think much of….” Once again he glanced out at the people shopping for books.

Andrew thought about that as he finished off the cake. “Could one of you do actually do that?”

There was a hint of silver in Neil’s eyes before he stared into his cup. “Yes,” was all he said, but Andrew caught a brief flash of cold and had the impression that at the least, _Neil_ could. That he knew very well one or two other ‘Named Ones’ who could, and they might be responsible for the scars left on his body.

Perhaps Neil’s father could, but somehow, Andrew doubted that the seemingly young man sitting across from him _would_ , even if he didn’t doubt for a moment that Neil _could._ Not when Neil allowed a bunch of stray cats into his room and fed them, not when he put up with Nicky, not when he apparently bothered to try to figure out humanity ‘every couple of centuries’.

Fuck, _centuries_.

Did Andrew really want to know just how old Neil was? He thought about it and decided that no, he really didn’t, not when he wasn’t that sure that Neil existing was the same as living.

With that thought in mind, he settled down to read another chapter or two before they left to go to work.

*******

Death truly wished that horses were still an option - riding in the car with Andrew wasn't as bad as with Compassion in that there were less loud noises from the other vehicles on the road, but there were still some angry horn blasts as Andrew seemed to change lanes at a whim and sped up without any reason. Death didn't understand why he couldn't just slide _between_ to get wherever he wanted, but it seemed that if he was with Andrew, then Andrew insisted on them going about things in the mortal manner. It was so _very_ frustrating.

He caught sight of someone running alongside the car for a moment then turned toward Andrew. "Perhaps I could run to work, like some people do?" When Andrew gave him another of those odd, undefinable looks, he gestured toward the sidewalk. "Some people seem to find it enjoyable."

"I will break your legs," Andrew told him in an almost pleasant tone of voice. "You're already rabbiting on me in one form, I'm not putting up with you doing it in a literal sense. No running at all, do you get it?"

"But-'

" _No_ ," Andrew said, and Death blinked when he thought there was a flash of red in his... what was Andrew to him? A friend? "No running," Andrew repeated. "Sit there and try not to be an idiot for two minutes, will you?"

"I'm not an idiot," Death mumbled as he tugged on the hood of his shirt.

"You are, too, and I'm going to buy you a damn collar tonight, just wait and see. Now be quiet." Andrew's jaw clenched as he reached for his pack of cigarettes, shook one out and lit it, and the rest of the drive to the Laughing Fox was mostly quiet as he smoked, save for the occasional complaint as he cut off a fellow driver.

By the time they reached the coffee shop, he seemed in a better mood - that was, until he caught sight of Temperance leaning against the outer wall of the noodle shop across the street. When Death felt that divine rage flare inside of his friend, he reached out a cautious hand to stop Andrew from charging across the street to fight the Virtue. "No, ple- don't," he said, while reminding himself to ask about that word later. "Leave him be."

Andrew spun around to face him while Temperance slipped _between_. "Why?" His hands clenched into fists and a definite spark of red in his eyes, the mortal stepped forward until he almost pinned Death against the black vehicle. "Why did you stop me?"

"Because he can't come near the place, between me and... because he's basically been warded from it." Due to what Death and Abigail had done to the place, Temperance and Deception both should be warded from it.

That statement seemed to restore some sort of control to Andrew, who frowned but didn't step back. "What do you mean, 'warded'?"

Death glanced around to make sure that no one was close enough to overhear before he continued. "It's something we can do, those of us who have power. Think of it as... magical protection, of setting up invisible walls that will block out those you don't want. You can tell them 'let in everyone but these people' or 'keep out everyone but these', and for the most part, they will hold against everyone but someone with more power than you."

Andrew seemed to think about that and then those almost golden eyes of his narrowed. "Your apartment and bedroom - you had to let Nicky and me into them, and that's why you're not worried about the open windows."

It always surprised Death, how quickly Andrew picked up on things. "Yes, they're warded only to let in people we trust."

"And cats." There was a slight twitch to Andrew's full lips at that comment.

"And cats," Neil agreed.

The faint smile vanished as Andrew glanced over his shoulder, to where Temperance had been. "Even if he can't enter the shop anymore, why did you stop me? That's the second time I've caught him near you, he's clearly become a stalker." Andrew's attention returned to Death. "He's working with Riko, isn't he?"

"Yes, it seems that way." Death sighed and shook his head. "I don't understand the bond between them, what Temperance owes him, but it might be something similar to what Deception tried to do to me last night. Maybe Temperance isn't doing it of his own free will." He raised his right hand to press lightly against the healing cuts hidden between the bandages and t-shirt. "Until we know for certain, I'd rather you not hurt him too much." Despite Temperance being a Virtue and Andrew mostly mortal... he had a feeling that Temperance would not come out the winner of that fight.

Again, Andrew seemed to consider things before he let out a slow breath, his expression oddly intent. "As long as he keeps his distance and his hands to himself, I'll leave him be, but I'm not going to let him hurt you." He slowly raised his right hand as well and, when Death didn't move or object in any manner, cupped the left side of Death's face; the touch made Death's heart race, made him catch his breath at the feel of heat against his skin and fingers sliding into his hair. "Remember what I said about not going anywhere alone. Don't even think about it, because I really will put a collar on you."

Before Death could say anything about that bit of nonsense, a small grey hatchback pulled into the parking lot, which caused Andrew to pull away with a blank expression on his face. Puzzled by his friend's change of demeanor, Death flinched when he heard Nicky call out Andrew's name and glanced over to see Abigail and Nicky get out of the car.

"Andrew! Oh my god, really? _Really_?" There was a huge grin on the young man's face as he rushed toward his cousin. "Details! I want de- ah, okay, maybe not," Nicky said as he held up his hands and backed away from a now furious Andrew in just as much of a hurry. "But I'm so happy for you!"

"You're about to be dead," Andrew muttered as he headed into the shop.

"Uhm, no he isn't," Death stated, since he felt... hmm, that was interesting, something was different about Nicky today, about his ending; he gave Abigail a curious look.

"Don't argue with me about these things," Andrew said as he stomped into the Laughing Fox, with a whining Nicky right on his heels.

Death ignored the two men as he gazed at Abigail, who gave him a nervous smile. "There's something different about Nicky."

She played with the silver moon and star pendant that hung from her neck. " _I decided to take your advice_ ," she explained in French as she glanced at the coffee shop, " _considering everything that's going on. Nicky's always shown a bit of interest in learning a few simple potions and elixirs, so the other day I stopped by his house and offered to extend the training_." Her smile grew more confident as she let go of the pendant. " _I haven't told him about his mother and everything else, just that I thought he had some talent and if he wanted to learn more things, I had the time and inclination to take on a... well, student_." Despite her smile, her eyes were full of sadness. " _He'll learn the truth eventually, he has too much power in him for it to be hidden for long, but for now he'll learn enough to protect him and Betsy_."

"Ah." Death regarded the coffee shop for a moment. " _Here is hoping that it won't be necessary, though it's best to be prepared_."

" _Yes, that's my thought on the matter, mine and Janus'_." Abigail nodded and then waved toward the shop. "Speaking of him, you should probably get inside and start your shift."

Probably, especially since he could hear the honking of horns in the distance, which seemed to herald Compassion's arrival. Not wanting to be standing in the parking lot when the blue monstrosity arrived even if he was immortal, Death hurried inside the coffee shop, where he found Andrew hovering near the door with a displeased look on his face, right before he was dragged toward the back where they both clocked in and then went behind the counter so Death could start making drinks.

"What did Abby want with you?" Andrew asked while he worked on a couple of cappuccinos.

"Uhm...." Death wasn't certain how much he should tell Andrew about the witch; Compassion and Courage had revealed the truth about themselves, while it seemed that Abigail was still hiding her true nature.

"Does it have anything to do with Nicky hanging out with her all of a sudden?"

"Maybe?" Death gave him a nervous grin. "I'm not sure I should say anything more right now."

That earned him another displeased look and Andrew snatching up one of the drinks. "Oh, look, you continue to suck at this."

Death merely sighed and made a new drink; perhaps it was Apollo who had a vendetta against him? That this was all some carefully arranged revenge, plotted out where one of the god's offspring would torment Death for some long-forgotten slight? Was that possible? If so, Death had greatly underestimated the god. "I wish I knew what it was that I'd done to deserve being punished like this," he muttered as several more drinks appeared on the screen.

"It's called 'stupidity’," Andrew told him.

"You're only proving my point for me," Death said as he fought not to dump one of the drinks on the bane of his existence - how was it possible to want to both curse someone and ask him for another kiss? He didn't understand the emotions that Andrew brought out in him, didn't understand how one person could affect him so much.

A steady stream of customers came into the coffee shop, which kept him busy making drinks - especially when a certain larcenous churl continued to steal them. By the time the screen was blank and there were no more customers in front of the counter, Death glared at a blank-faced Andrew and stomped over to a curious Compassion.

" _Why? Why am I attracted to someone like him_?" he demanded to know while speaking in Gaelic. " _It doesn't make any sense_."

Compassion grinned at him as he leaned against the counter, his arms folded across his chest. " _Yeah, but that's sort of the point of the whole thing - it's not based on rationale or logic or any of that stuff,_ " his friend told him in the same language. " _It's based on much more ephemeral things, like the way a person looks or the sound of their voice or how they smell_." His smile took on a ridiculous quality. " _Something that catches your attention like their laugh or how bright their eyes are, that little quirk of their lips or_ -"

" _Stop thinking of Courage_ ," Death chided the tall moron, " _you're supposed to be helping me here_." Though as he glanced at Andrew, who was frowning at a gesturing Nicky, he had to admit that there was something appealing about the mortal's broad shoulders, how firm they looked, along with Andrew's chest. Andrew had also smelled very nice the day before, something a bit spicy that had made Death want to lean in even closer and take deep breaths- he shook his head as he felt his heart start to beat faster.

He glanced back to find Compassion giving him a knowing look. " _It's different for everyone, but he has something that draws you in, right?_ " When Death ducked his head, unwilling to say anything just then, all Compassion did was chuckle. " _Yeah, he does_." All of a sudden the Virtue straightened up. " _Ah, he doesn't seem happy about something_."

Looking up at that statement, Death blinked when he found Andrew stalking toward them with Nicky behind him with an apologetic smile on his face. "You're coming over to dinner tonight," Andrew told Death.

"Okay." Death considered the fact that it seemed he never had a choice about these things and sighed in exasperation. " _Why_ am I coming over for dinner?"

"Because a certain loud-mouthed traitor went and blabbed to Bee about us," Andrew ground out, while Nicky flinched behind him, his phone held cradled against his chest.

"Hey! All I did was... well, okay, yeah, I might have texted her that you almost made out in the parking lot, but I was just telling her the good news!" He jumped back when Andrew shot him a poisonous look over his shoulder.

"How sad that I'll soon be informing her of your impending death."

"No you won't," Death corrected him.

"Fine, then his impending dismemberment," Andrew argued while still glaring at his cousin, while Nicky paled and gulped in an audible manner.

"This isn't answering my question," Death pointed out. "Why do I have to come to dinner tonight?"

"Ah, because Betsy is having Erik over, and I thought... well, it'll be more comfortable if he has a friend with him, right?" Nicky's eyes widened and he gave Death a tremulous smile.

Death looked from him to Andrew. "For the third time, why am I coming over?"

"Because if I have to suffer, so do you," Andrew told him, and after a moment's contemplation, Death sighed and nodded before turning to Compassion.

" _As soon as I figure out why the Fates hate me so much, I am turning them on Tisiphone_ ," he promised while speaking Gaelic again; after all, it was the Fury's fault for getting him into this mess in the first place.

"Good luck with that," Compassion wished him, seeming earnest as always.

Even though Death had a feeling that nothing would come out of it, he did spend a few blissful moments dwelling on someone else being stuck in a similar ridiculous situation such as him. Then he found himself being pulled back to the espresso machine as a few more customers came in.

"Have Erik pick you up, I'm serious about you not going anywhere alone and if you do that whole," Andrew waved his hand in the air for a moment, "shimmer thing and show up in our living room, I will throttle you for a good ten minutes, do you understand me?"

Death gazed at him for a few seconds. "I am failing to find any insult appropriately foul enough for you right now," he thought Andrew should know.

"Good, because I hate you too," Andrew replied back without any evident show of emotion while Compassion gaped at them and Nicky sighed. "You're still riding with Erik to the house."

"But that's... you don't say that to your new boyfriend," Compassion gasped.

"Trust me, if it's Andrew then you do," Nicky told him while patting him on the shoulder. "He has this first grade mentality when it comes to the guys he likes." They didn’t seem to notice the way that Andrew had taken to scowling ever so slightly at both of them, or how his hands hovered at the edge of his sleeves.

Meanwhile the woman standing at the head of the queue in front of the register held up her hand. “Uhm, is anyone taking drink orders?”

Compassion cursed as he hurried over to the register while Nicky flashed her a grin and called out ‘just a sec’ before waving his upheld thumb at Death for some reason.

Death frowned at the screen while he waited for drink orders to appear, once more confused about his feelings for Andrew, even more so after their recent verbal exchange. “I truly don’t understand – is this what you feel that leads to having hate sex?” He’d heard the term before but never been able to grasp the concept. Had Andrew kissed him because he wanted hate sex?

Andrew let out a muttered curse and slammed down the gallon of milk he’d just fetched from the cooler beneath the counter before stalking off, leaving Death to wonder what was wrong with his friend before the screen lit up with a couple of new orders, meaning he couldn’t leave to find out the answer.

Compassion and Nicky almost ran over once the last drink was passed on – Nicky almost shoved it into the man’s hands. “What happened _now_?” Compassion asked, his expression more than a bit harried for some reason.

“All I did was ask Andrew about hate sex,” Death complained as he wiped down the area around the espresso machine.

“Of all the-“ Compassion rubbed at his face while Nicky appeared torn between laughing and crying. “I don’t even know where to begin on this one, I don’t.”

“I mean, it’s been proven that I’m attracted to him and he might be attracted to me,” Death stated, “but he just… I don’t understand it and him and it’s so frustrating.” He tugged at his hood as he struggled to put what he was feeling into words. “Then he said he hates me and… hate sex, right?” He looked at his friend in hope, only to have that emotion fade when Compassion stared at him in evident pity. “Apparently not,” he sighed.

“Oh god, Betsy is… well, it’s good for me,” Nicky muttered as if to himself. “She is _so_ going to ignore Erik and me tonight. It’s going to be as if we’re not even there.”

“What was that?” Compassion asked, his eyes narrowed as he glanced over at Nicky.

“Just saying that Betsy is going to adore Neil!” Nicky gave a nervous laugh as he motioned at Death.

“Right.” Compassion didn’t sound convinced about that, and Death couldn’t blame him – he had his doubts about spending a couple of hours with a human who most likely didn’t have any witch or divine blood in her, which meant dinner wasn’t going to be a pleasant affair. Considering that he seemed to somehow have offended Andrew, though, it was the least of his worries at the moment.

Andrew returned a couple of minutes later, when Death had cleaned both espresso machines and all of the back counter, smelling of smoke and his expression completely blank. When Nicky made to come over, Andrew stopped him with one flat look. “You’re an utter idiot,” he told Death after going to the display case to pick out a brownie.

“So it seems.” Death tugged on his hood and would have shrugged, but it made his healing wounds ache. “Ah, I’m sorry.” He still didn’t know what exactly he’d said that was so wrong, but he hadn’t meant to upset Andrew like that.

“Do you know what hate is?” Andrew asked him as he broke off a piece of the chocolate brownie, his tone curious but expression still flat.

Death thought of his father, of Deception and had to struggle to contain his power, his true nature. “ _Yes_ ,” he breathed out as he bowed his head for a moment.

Andrew was quiet, and then he reached out to at first tilt Death’s head up with a finger beneath his chin and then shoved a piece of the brownie between Death’s lips until he sighed and parted them to allow the morsel into his mouth; he grimaced a little at its sweetness, which seemed to amuse Andrew, judging from the faint crinkling around his hazel eyes. “Do you hate me?” There was no emotion behind the words, but Death could feel the intent in the way those eyes studied him.

“No,” he said, without any hesitation. Andrew may confuse and confound him, may frustrate and infuriate him, but never hate.

“Then no hate sex.” Andrew scoffed as he had a bite of brownie himself. “Which is getting way ahead of ourselves, don’t you think?”

“It’s just….” Death let out a sharp burst of air as he ran his fingers through his hair, which knocked the hood back. “I’ve never… you’re the… this is so _new_ to me.”

Andrew gazed at him for a couple of seconds and just as his expression began to soften, there was a rush of power, a forewarning of a Named One approaching, and then Death heard a familiar voice bellow.

“Kiddo?! Where the hell are you? What the _fuck_ are you doing in a shithole like this?”

“Oh hell,” Compassion groaned as he crouched down a little by the register as if to hide behind it, while Death felt a mix of warmth, affection and annoyance as he looked out across the shop to see his uncle stride toward the counter, grey eyes blazing with a familiar temper, face drawn in a scowl and dressed in one of his expensive suits.

Wrath had finally tracked him down, it had seemed.

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *******  
> Slowly working a few more canon things in. Slowly.
> 
> And Andrew being brought up to speed on a few things!
> 
> Do you think Nicky is going to do any 'fun' stuff with those lessons? I'm sure he'll be very mature. /sarcasm
> 
> Hmm, so, the kiss. Why does stuff like that always seem to happen around this chapter point in my long fics? IDFK... still, don't expect things to get hot and heavy from here on out, nope, nope. One is still too clueless and one (even if he has less issues) still has some issues.
> 
> I love Dan and Matt.
> 
> And yay! Stuart!
> 
> Not sure what's going to be posted on Wednesday, if anything. I've started one or two things, but there's so much adult real life stuff going on right now that it's all just... meh.
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are much appreciated.


	10. Death Comes to Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! No new characters popping up in this chapter, but a fair bit going on and a little information/storytelling. Sorta.  
> *******

*******

Death went to approach the counter but was stopped by something holding on to his hood – make that _someone_ holding on to his hood. He looked back at Andrew, who was scowling at Wrath as the Vice stood near the register where Compassion was all but hiding, while in the front area customers were either watching on in confusion or getting up to leave the coffee shop.

“Who is he?” Andrew asked, his voice rough and the divine spark inside of him flaring as he turned his gaze on Wrath. “Is he your father?”

Wrath heard the question and scowled even more. “The _fuck_? Who is this ignorant little prick?” He put his fists on the counter and leaned over it, which made Compassion curse beneath his breath and crouch down even more; Nicky, who stood next to him, gaped at Compassion’s antics. “And get your damn hands off of my nephew.”

Andrew gave Wrath a cold smile as he let go of Death’s hood, but only so he could grasp the back of Death’s neck instead, which made Death shiver as a result. “Get your hands off of my counter and your ass out of my store.”

“Listen, you pathetic little-“

“ _Stop it, both of you_ ,” Death told the two, having a feeling that they were forgetting that other people were present; Wrath’s Aspect had already caused two arguments to break out in the front area, while that red light was back in Andrew’s eyes. When both men fell silent, Death sighed and nodded to his uncle. “How did you find me?”

Wrath glared at Andrew for a moment longer before resting his forearms on the counter. “Ran into Hestia last night at a wine tasting in Milan and she told me about you being here.” His expression changed into a disapproving frown as he looked over the counter to where Compassion was doing his best to hide. “Seriously? What the fuck were you thinking, to encourage him in this idiocy? I’d have hoped that your girlfriend at least would know better.”

“Hey!” Compassion stood up in a rush, and despite the fact that he had almost a foot on Wrath, he cringed at the disgusted look that the Vice gave him. “It’s uhm, not stupid, what we’re doing here.” Death had seen his friend take on a rioting crowd, a coven of witches and even a squadron of armed soldiers, but the Virtue had never been able to face off against Wrath for very long. What amazed him, though, was how Compassion still tried after all these years.

“It’s not stupid,” he agreed as he stepped forward, and was surprised when Andrew kept the light grip on the back of his neck as well as followed him. “And this place is not a ‘shithole’.” It was a good thing that Janus wasn’t there at the moment.

“You’re slinging coffee, kiddo, in one of Reynard’s joints. What’s next, bartending for Bacchus?” Wrath’s eyes narrowed as he gazed at Andrew. “And what the fuck is up with this one? Go away, you little shit, before I break off that hand of yours.”

“I’m beginning to see why you came all the way out here without any family,” Andrew told Death as he gave his nape another gentle squeeze. “And why you didn’t mention your uncle before now – doing your best to forget the man’s existence, yes?”

“You shitty little-“

Death threw out his hands to shove some distance between the two morons. “ _Stop it!_ ” He sighed and for a moment debated disappearing to somewhere far away and quiet, but Wrath would just track him down and Andrew would no doubt be unbearable when he returned. “Come, follow me,” he instructed as he flipped up the counter and headed outside; best to leave the shop before real fighting broke out, either between Wrath and Andrew or the remaining customers.

At first it seemed as if the two imbeciles were too busy glaring at each other to follow, but once he was about halfway to the door, Andrew stalked after him and then Wrath was quick to do the same. Death was grateful to not see Temperance anywhere outside, because one of the last things he needed at the moment was for the Virtue to join in as well, and continued on his way to the small space between the Laughing Fox and the flower shop next door. As soon as he reached the shaded area, Andrew caught up with him.

“What did I tell you about not going off by yourself?”

“You were right behind me,” Death reminded his friend, then smiled as his uncle joined him. “Hello.”

“Seriously, why the fuck did you have him come along?” Wrath asked as he jerked his left thumb in Andrew’s direction. “Is it his time or something? Do I get to see him walk out into traffic?”

Meanwhile, Andrew had pulled out his pack of cigarettes and paused in lighting one to look at Death. “So what is he? Annoyance? Pestilence? Stupidity?”

Death sighed and tugged his hood back over his head while Wrath gawked at first Andrew then him. “Wait, does he know about us? Did you _tell_ him about us?”

“Ignorance,” Andrew said as he blew out smoke in Wrath’s direction. “He’s gotta be Ignorance.”

“No, he’s not,” Death muttered, “and yes, I did,” he told his uncle. “Things here are… complicated.”

“The hell?” Wrath’s Aspect flared, which made his eyes turn a blood red color as he took a step toward Death. “I don’t care how-“ He stopped short when Andrew, a spark of fire blazing in his own eyes, had moved to stand in front of Death as if to block Wrath from him, a knife held in his right hand and the cigarette now smoldering on the ground.

“ _Don’t come near him_ ,” Andrew warned, his divine nature radiating from him in waves as if heat from the sun above; there was no way for him to know that Wrath would never hurt Death, that he was one of the very few beings that Death trusted without reservation.

At first Wrath appeared stunned, and then recognition flashed across his face as he stared at Andrew. "One of the mouse's get, are you? Well fuck off, because I want to talk to my nephew. Go play with a lyre or something."

Andrew turned his head a little in Death's direction. "I'm about to test out that whole immortality thing right now." He made to move forward, but Death stopped him with a light hand to his shoulder.

 "This is getting ridiculous. My uncle would never harm me," he told his friend. "And stop insulting Andrew,” he ordered his uncle, upset that they kept fighting each other.

"Oh, look, it's got a name," Wrath muttered, only to sigh when Death glared at him. "Fine, I'll play nice, but keep him under control, yeah? He's a bit uppity."

"At least I'm not a prick," Andrew said in a mostly civil tone.

"You are not helping things," Death sighed as he tapped on the arm holding the knife. "And put that away."  While Andrew frowned at him, he skirted around his friend so he could approach Wrath. "Why did you come here? Just to check up on me?" Did his uncle know something about his father? About Destruction?

Wrath eyed Andrew for a moment before clicking his tongue. "Heard that you were playing house with Compassion and couldn't possibly see how _that_ would end well, so I came here to check up on you." He reached out to Death, either to pull him in for a hug or to tousle his hair, and as he came within arm's reach, he went stiff for a moment and then jerked Death close while his Aspect flared again. "What the _hell_ , kiddo? Why do you reek of protective herbs and marigold? What happened?"

It had been a bit too much to hope that Wrath wouldn't find out about the sigil, hadn't it? Before Death could say anything, Andrew was there to shove Wrath away, a feat that stunned the Vice. "What did I say about keeping away from him?" Andrew warned, his eyes alit once more.

"Listen, you pathetic little shit," Wrath spat out as power flooded the small space between the buildings, as Death heard voices turn angry out on the sidewalk and horns blast as cars drove past. "You don't tell me _anything_ when it comes to my nephew, not when I've been watching out for him longer than most of your bloodline had the good sense to plant a few seeds in the ground."

"And such a great job you've been doing," Andrew shot back as he got into Wrath's face, seemingly unaffected by the Vice's power - then again, he had his own rage eating at him, from what Death could tell. "Could you be any more of a failure?"

" _Enough,_ " Death said as he released his own Aspect, and both men stilled as his power washed over them. "The only thing more ridiculous than this argument is the both of you. Why are you acting like this?”

“He’s an uppity little shit!”

“He’s an asshole.”

Death sighed at the way Wrath and Andrew insulted each other at the same time and rubbed at his sore head as he finally had enough of their stupidity. “You’re both utter dullards,” he informed them before turning around to return to the coffee shop. “I refuse to deal with you when you’re acting like this.” That appeared to surprise the two morons, which was good, because it enabled him to enter the shop ahead of them, and give him the couple of seconds he needed to alter the wards to prevent either of them from entering. He could feel it when Andrew attempted to breach the doorway and couldn’t, and ignored his friend calling at him.

“Dammit, what did you do?”

“Enjoy your break,” Death told him as he went behind the counter.

“This isn’t funny,” Wrath shouted over Andrew’s shoulder.

“Don’t block the customers,” Death told them, while Nicky stared at them in confusion and Compassion grinned.

“ _The wards? Really_?” the Virtue asked in Gaelic as he leaned against the counter. “ _How long are you going to leave them out there_?” When all Death did was give him a blank look in return, Compassion laughed.

“Ah, is Andrew not coming back yet?” Nicky asked as he watched his cousin give Death a rude gesture then stomp off.

“Not until he learns some manners,” Death said, unwilling to put up with either Andrew or his uncle any time soon.

“Oh shit.” Nicky winced as he pulled out his phone. “But you’re still coming to dinner, right?” For some reason he and Andrew were insistent on the dinner. “Because Erik said he’ll pick you up and bring you.”

Death sighed as he headed over to the espresso machine. “Yes, I told Andrew I would come.”

Nicky appeared happy to hear that. “Great! Dinner’s at six, that’ll give you time to get home and change, not that it’s formal or anything.” Then he winced again. “And, uhm, Andrew time to calm down.” He gave Death an odd look for some reason. “Maybe you were on to something there with the hate sex thing.”

“No, he wasn’t,” Compassion insisted as he shoved Nicky toward the register. “Don’t listen to him.”

And Death wondered why he got so confused about things, he thought to himself as he questioned yet again why the end of the universe had to be so damn far away.

*******

Perched on the hood of his car while he smoked his way through his pack of cigarettes, Andrew glared as yet another customer managed to go into the Laughing Fox – a feat he still couldn’t manage. A feat he couldn’t manage because a _certain_ idiot had whammied the damn door with magical wards or whatever dumb shit. “So what, Neil’s that much stronger than you?” he asked the pain in the ass hovering next to him.

Wrath (and didn’t _that_ just make sense, considering Neil’s temper) glared at him some more for the question. “His name’s not Neil,” the prick snapped while smoking some stupid clove cigarette of his own, “and yeah, he’s stronger.” Some of Wrath’s temper seemed to fade as he stared at the coffee shop for a few seconds. “There’s precious little out there that’s stronger than him.”

Andrew considered that for a moment as he flicked ash off to the side, and felt some of his own anger at Neil settle despite being blocked from the shop and being stuck with Neil’s asshole uncle. “What about his father, hmm? Is he included in that ‘precious little’?”

“Destruction?” The loathing that Wrath felt was evident in the way he said that word – no, that name, and Andrew felt a small flash of satisfaction at gaining that truth without having to barter for it – in how his face twisted with hatred. “Not quite.” Wrath shook his head as he once more stared at the coffee shop. “The sick fuck is old as hell, so that gives him a bit of an edge, and he’s… well, he’s the kiddo’s father. There’s blood between them.” He huffed a little as he closed his eyes and shook his head again with his hands clutched into fists; the similarities between the prick and Neil weren’t evident right away, not with Neil’s auburn hair and icy blue eyes, his cheekbones and full bottom lip and straight nose compared to Wrath’s blond hair and grey eyes, his broader, unremarkable face. Then you noticed the same straight brows, the similar lean build and elegant hands, even a couple of the same mannerisms and a hint of the same accent. “Blood in more ways than one,” Wrath continued, his deep voice thick with bitterness. “Gives the fucker a definite edge when it comes to… to the kid.”

Andrew wondered if Wrath wanted to call Neil ‘Abram’ but couldn’t, since Neil no longer _was_ Abram – just what was the protocol with the whole Aspect shit? Still, Andrew felt a warmth in his chest whenever he thought about ‘Abram’, when he held that name in his mind. Perhaps Neil giving it to him hadn’t been such a symbolic thing after all.

“What about you?”

There was another huff at the question. “I share blood with him, too, but not enough to get past that damn ward.” Wrath drew in a sharp drag on the clove cigarette then blew out a plume of smoke. “Takes after his mother, he does. This is something she would have pulled.” For a moment there was a smile on the prick’s face, then it soon crumpled into something that appeared to be grief. “Stubborn fool.”

That Andrew could agree on, not that he’d admit it to the prick. “How long do these wards stay up? A day? A week?”

Wrath looked at him as if he was the idiot. “Until the caster removes them or is no more, or they get knocked down.” He flicked ash in Andrew’s general vicinity, then swore when Andrew flicked the remains of his own cigarette at the prick in retaliation. “You shitty little bastard,” Wrath muttered without any real heat. “There’s a necromancer who thought that if he sacrificed enough innocents, he could gain their life force and extend his own until he became immortal.” Wrath’s eyes once more turned a pure red as he spoke, brighter than the end of his smelly cigarette. “It almost worked, but only because some dumb fucks started worshiping him and were turning him into a god, but the kid caught up to him.” A sliver of a smile, sharp as a blade and just as thin, formed on Wrath’s lips. “By the time the kid was done with him there were no more worshippers, and the dumb bastard ended up warded inside that tarted-up mausoleum he used for his spellcasting.  He’s still warded in there to this day, cursed with no ending until the kid forgives him.” The smile grew sharper. “And the kid’s not in a forgiving mood, not when you break the rules, not when you hurt innocents.”

Andrew thought about that for a moment, about Neil and his cats, about all of those scars, and then Neil telling him about the ‘rules’. About the glimpse he’d gotten of all the power Neil contained, and yet Neil talked about following the rules, Neil worked in a stupid coffee shop and had stopped his uncle from hurting people. “When did this happen?”

“Eh, three centuries ago?” Wrath seemed to think about it as he had another puff from his cigarette, his eyes back to normal. “No, more like four. I stop by now and then to laugh at the bastard.”

“Good for you.” Andrew meant it, because he wasn’t a fan of people who hurt innocents, either. If anything, he thought that Neil had let the bastard off a bit easy.

“Huh.” Wrath squinted at him as he tossed the butt of his cigarette away, clearly trying to figure Andrew out – which, good luck with that. When all Andrew did was give him a flat stare in return, the prick grunted. “Why are you still here? He’s not going to let you back in until he’s good and ready, which might literally be when Hell freezes over.”

“Making sure no one undesirable goes in there or waits for him to come out,” Andrew said as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“Of all the-“ Wrath rubbed at his eyes while he frowned. “You know what he is.”

“So?” Andrew debated going for the bottle of vodka in the glove compartment but decided to wait a little longer, especially since he had the dinner with Bee in a couple of hours.

“So you really think you’re going to protect him?” When all Andrew did was continue to give the prick a flat stare, Wrath sighed. “What happened to him? Why did he need the healing herbs? It can’t be Destruction, even that dumb-ass Virtue wouldn’t let the kid stick around if that fucker was anywhere near here, so it was Deception, right?”

Andrew debated if it was worth it to answer, then gave a slight nod. “So how do I kill him?”

It sounded as if Wrath was grinding his teeth together at the moment. “A bit of divine blood and you think you’re the shit, why the fuck am I wasting my time here?” Wrath muttered something beneath his breath in some odd language while he glared at the coffee shop. “You don’t, you little _ignorant_ shit. There are Rules. _Rules_. You think it’s so easy to kill one of us? That there aren’t consequences? I would have had that _fucker_ Destruction’s head on a damn pike millennia ago, and made Deception’s balls into a nice purse,” he ranted, his eyes red once more. “But some prices are just too damn high.”

“For _you_ to pay?” Andrew asked as he thought about the scars on Neil’s body, about how broken Neil seemed at times despite being so powerful. Some prices were _never_ too high.

The question made Wrath laugh, the sound too twisted and wretched for amusement. “If it was just me paying it? I’d do it in a heartbeat to get revenge for my sister and to protect Ab- for the kiddo.” The red was gone from Wrath’s eyes, and now he seemed little more than a tired man. “How do you think they ensure we follow the Rules? By making sure that there’s no fucking way we’ll risk breaking the things, not when we know what’ll happen if we do.” A mocking smile was turned Andrew’s way. “Makes being trapped in a small space with an unending thirst and hunger for a few centuries and no one to talk to except someone who stops by to mock you now and then seem like a pretty good fate.”

The prick might have a point. “So how do I make him suffer, then? How do I hurt him enough to get him to leave your nephew alone?”

“Fuck me, you’re serious about this.” Wrath seemed to think about it for a minute, and during that time Andrew noticed how no one else was coming to the coffee shop, how people were avoiding the place even though it was usually busy at this time of day. Was it Wrath’s presence? There wasn’t any fighting going on, like earlier, but the neighborhood on whole seemed quiet.

“If Deception’s stirring up shit, then you need to pull in the big guns,” Wrath told him. At Andrew’s annoyed look, he smiled. “So the kiddo hasn’t told you everything, it seems.”

“He certainly didn’t tell me how much of an annoying prick you were,” Andrew admitted, which earned him a rude gesture. “I don’t have time for this shit, what are the ‘big guns’?” Maybe it was something as simple as holy water or garlic. Hmm, wait, no, Neil was fine eating pizza.

“By ‘big guns’, I mean go for Pride, which a shitty little bastard like you should have no problem attracting.” When Andrew continued to stare at him, Wrath smiled. “Pride, as in Deception’s big brother.”

“The one who took over for his father.” Andrew supposed that as Vices went, Pride would be at the top and supposedly very powerful.

“Huh, so you do know something about it.” Wrath rubbed at his chin as he eyed Andrew with some consideration. “Yeah, and Deception’s still pissed off about it to this day, while Pride is sick and tired of all the crap his brother pulls. If you can snag Pride’s attention and set him on the asshole, Deception will be too busy to touch the kid.”

It figured, since fucked up family drama seemed to trump almost everything. “And how do I do that?” Andrew’s fingers itched to go for one of his knives when all Wrath did was grin at him. “Really? You’re not going to help out your nephew more than that?”

“Tell the kiddo I’ll be back soon to check on him, and keep your damn hands to yourself.” The red crept back into Wrath’s eyes as he glared at Andrew. “You god types tend to think that the most divine part of you is the bit between your legs. Well, get _it_ anywhere near him and you’ll be making an offering to Cybele real soon, understood?”

Before Andrew could slip a knife free, the bastard pulled a disappearing act and vanished in front of his eyes; Andrew ran his fingers along the smooth blade a couple of times and imagined the fun he could have with someone supposedly immortal, the pleasure of stabbing the knife deep several times without having to worry about disposing of a body.

He had just calmed down when a familiar form came out of the coffee shop holding a cup in one hand and what looked to be a chocolate muffin in the other. Neil was cautious in approaching Andrew, much more so when dealing with the damn cats, and made sure to hold his offerings out in front of him as if they were shields. “Ah, so my uncle left?”

“Unfortunately for you, he said he’ll be back.” Andrew eyed the treats and accepted them as his due. “Lower the damn wards before I punch you.”

Neil sighed as he sidled over to lean against the Nissan. “They’re already down.” He tugged at the hood while Andrew sipped the double mocha latte. “Well, for you at least. Are the two of you getting along better now?”

Andrew set the cup down next to him on the hood of the car. “He threatened to castrate me,” he felt the idiot should know.

“Hmm.” Neil seemed to think about it. “Well, he didn’t do it, right?” He looked Andrew up and down then nodded. “That’s a positive sign.”

‘A positive sign’ indeed, Andrew thought as he had a piece of the muffin. “I have a question I want to ask you,” he told his idiot while doing his best not to smack him.

“Hmm, but it’s my turn, right? It seems to me that you’ve been asking a lot lately.”

Andrew gritted his teeth together before having another bite. “Then go ahead and ask it.”

Neil seemed to think about it for a few seconds. “Why do you hate the word ‘please’?”

The day just got better and better, didn’t it? “Because the man,” Andrew refused to think any more about which one, “told me that he’d stop… well, he’d _stop_ if I asked him nicely,” he told Neil with his teeth bared in a parody of a smile; Neil knew about the Fury, knew that Andrew had been ‘saved’, so he didn’t think he needed to be any more explicit than that.

“And did- no,” Neil said while shaking his head. “Never mind.” The silver overcame his eyes for a moment. “Thank you,” he whispered while he bowed his head, the voluminous hood hiding his face.

It was quiet while Andrew finished the muffin and had a sip of the latte. “Why is your uncle so protective of you?” So protective of _Death_ , of someone who was more powerful than him?

Neil shivered a little and raised his head when he began to speak, his arms wrapped around his chest despite the wounds hidden beneath his shirt. “Because he was close to my mother, his sister. Courage and Temperance they were,” Andrew started at hearing mention of the one Virtue, “and then she met Destruction. I don’t know what she saw in him, what was the attraction.” Neil was quiet for a moment as his eyes became that otherworldly mix of silver and blue, as the air grew cold around them. “Something drew her to him, and I was born. Then she found out his plans for me, so she took me and ran.” The smile he gave Andrew just then was full of sadness. “Courage _ran_. She ran and she lied and-“ His hands shook as he wiped them over his face, as he ran them through his hair. “If she’d fought him face to face, there would have been some hope, but she broke too many rules. Not that there was much hope for her if she had followed the Rules, because he had planned things well.”

Neil was quiet for a moment as he gnawed at his bottom lip. “So my uncle lost his sister, and in a way he lost his nephew, too. He lost a part of me at least,” Neil explained as he pressed the palm of his right hand against the center of his chest. “And he lost a part of himself, too, the part that used to be Temperance. After all of that, he’s done his best to ensure that I don’t lose anything else, that my father can’t touch me again.”

Andrew regarded Neil after that confession, as he thought about seeing Bee or Nicky chased down and covered in scars. "And has he managed to do that? To keep your father away?"

Neil's smile took on a colder edge. "He tries. My father has several people who are loyal to him and is powerful, so it's not easy to keep him from what he wants."

Then it was about time that the man learned that some things were beyond his reach then, wasn't it?

They sat there while Andrew drank his latte, and something else occurred to him. "Wait, you said that your mother was Courage?" When Neil nodded, he frowned at the idiot. "But _Dan's_ Courage, how does that work?" He didn't care if it technically wasn't his turn, he wanted to know if Neil and Dan were related or something, if that was why the woman kept threatening Andrew.

"It's how Riko became Deception and I became... well, what I am now," Neil said with a slight shrug. "When one of us either tires of what we're doing or something happens to-" He shook his head all of a sudden, probably as he thought of his mother. "You can offer up your Aspect to someone you feel is worthy of it or who is best suited to carry on with it, or sometimes it just chooses its successor if... well, in Dan's case." He was quiet as he stared off in the distance, his shoulders hunched forward despite the wound on his chest.

"So you're not related." Not that they looked anything alike, but Andrew was learning that with these ‘Named Ones’, things weren’t always what they seemed.

"Not by blood, if that's what you're asking. But Courage – Dan, if you will - feels some responsibility for me, since I am the child of Courage." Neil grimaced a little at that.

The child of Courage and Destruction, what a lineage, Andrew thought to himself as he eyed Neil over the rim of his cup. Oh, and the nephew of Wrath who once was Temperance, though considering Neil's temper, Wrath suited him better. "I would have expected you to be the child of Idiocy, but whatever."

The comment earned him a weary sigh. "I honestly don't know what I've done to deserve this." Neil glared at nothing in particular, then seemed to perk up when a stray cat appeared to stalk over to the parking lot with its striped tail held high.

No, Andrew wasn't in the mood right then for Neil and his weird cat shit. "Come on, time to get back to failing at making drinks," he said as he pulled Neil off of the car. "I can only imagine how pathetic you were without me there."

"Oddly enough, there were no complaints," Neil stated as he allowed himself to be dragged along.

"That you know about - I'm sure Nicky was too nice to pass them along."

Neil gave Andrew a look which made it clear that he wasn't buying anything, but his eyes were normal and there was a hint of a smile on his face, so Andrew considered it a victory.

*******

"You have everything, right?" Courage asked as she eyed Death up and down, her fingers twitching as if she wanted to tug at his clothes or fuss with his hair.

As way of an answer, he held up the bag containing the gift he'd gone out for earlier - with Compassion, just in case Andrew asked - and nodded.

"I'm still not sure about this, it seems so sudden," she mused aloud. "But then humans are impatient things so...." She shrugged and then seemed to give in to the impulse to tuck back the hair falling onto Death's face while he fought not to flinch at the touch.

"And you remember what we told you not to talk about, right?" Compassion reminded him yet again. "No sex, no depressing statistics, no work stuff. I mean your real job," he clarified when Death went to speak. "Do your best to avoid any family stuff, too, I'm sure Andrew will help you out with that, considering he just met Wrath."

"Why am I even going?" Death asked as he struggled with the impulse to tug on a non-existent hood; Courage and Compassion had dressed him in his 'nicest' jeans and a dress shirt that Nicky had bought for him, not a shade of grey in sight.

"Because you were invited," Compassion told him. "So behave, be nice and smile, and you'll do great." His friend patted him on the back while Courage appeared a bit more dubious about the whole affair.

Before Death could come up with excuses to get him out of the event, 'Erik' showed up a couple of minutes later, dressed in a similar outfit along with a dress coat, so Death got to suffer another ride in a car. At least Erik was a better driver than Andrew and Compassion, though Death had to put up with the light elf rambling on about Nicky's various 'attributes' the entire way (he _truly_ didn't care about how good a kisser the witch was, or the 'perkiness' of his ass). As a distraction, Death paid attention to each 'ending' they drove past on the way to Andrew's house.

They arrived at a small house with two cars parked in the driveway, one which he recognized as Andrew's. Erik was very excited to get out of the car and retrieved a bright gold bag out of the back seat of the car, then waited for Death to join him before they went up to the front door. It seemed that Erik had just rang the doorbell when the door opened to reveal a blank-faced Andrew, dressed in black jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt of the same color, and an excited Nicky in an outfit similar to Death's but in brighter colors.

"You made it!" Nicky reached out to give Erik a hug and kiss, while Death waited for the two to move aside so he could enter the abode.

After a few seconds, Andrew clicked his tongue and smacked his cousin on the back. "Get out of the way and do that shit somewhere I don't have to see it."

"Ow! Why are you always so mean?" Nicky complained, yet he stepped aside at last.

Death stood there in the doorway while Andrew gazed back at him, and then blinked when the front of his shirt was grabbed and he was yanked forward. "Come on, don't stand there like the idiot you are," he was told.

"Ah, all right." He glanced around him as he was all but dragged into a kitchen, and noted the warm colors on the wall, what looked to be comfortable furniture and the neat surroundings. "It's nice, your home."

"It's not bad," Andrew said, but Death noticed that while Andrew's face was blank, his deep voice lacked its sometimes biting edge.

There was a woman in the kitchen, middle-aged from her looks, just a couple inches taller than Death and with shoulder-length wavy brown hair shot with grey. She had glasses on her round face and wore a dark blue skirt that came down to her calves, along with a loose shirt that allowed her to move about easily as she stirred something in a large pot of boiling water. "Hello!" She smiled at Death for a moment before the expression faltered a little; he was doing his best to dampen his nature as much as he could, but unlike Andrew and Nicky she was fully human. He suspected that the only reason she didn't recoil from him outright was that she must be used to... well, to things like him somewhat, after living with a demi-god and a witch for so long. "So, you're Neil, yes? I'm Betsy." She wiped her hands along her hips before she held out her right one.

"It's nice to meet you," he told her while he placed the strings to the gift bag in her hand and gave it the quickest of shakes. "This is for you, as a 'thank you' for inviting me."

To give her credit, Betsy Dobson didn't flinch at touching him, and she managed a smile at the present; there as a sharp intelligence in her brown eyes which put him on edge, which made him wary at her seeing behind the thin mask of humanity that he wore. "Another gift," she said while glancing aside at Andrew, who stood nearby with that bland look on his face. "Imagine that, two young men with manners."

"Just open it," Andrew told her as he took to leaning against the counter. "Hopefully it's some wine."

"Very funny," Betsy gave him a reproachful look as she reached into the bag to pull out the wrapped object while Nicky and Erik joined them; Andrew was distracted by the gold bag in Erik's hand for some reason, while Betsy undid the wrapping to reveal the ornately carved and inlaid box. "Is it - it's a puzzle box, isn't it?" she asked as she turned the present around in her hand.

"Yes," Death told her. "I thought you might like it." He wasn't sure what to get a stranger, but thought it might be appropriate for someone who worked in her profession, and so had gone to Inari to buy one.

Betsy studied it for a moment before giving him a pleased smile. "It's lovely, thank you." Meanwhile, Andrew gave him a considering look before shrugging.

"It's not wine, but at least it's not flowers," he said before turning to Erik. "What about you?"

While Betsy chastised him about his manners, Erik smiled and handed over the bag, which was embossed with a logo of a woman on a horse and the words 'Godiva'. "I thank you for welcoming me to share dinner with you tonight, and show my gratitude with these gifts for the family." He barely got two words out before Andrew snatched the bag away and dug through it to pull out a large gold box - only for Betsy to take the box and bag away from him in return.

"Save them for dessert," she chided her adopted son, which earned her a displeased look. “We’re having spaghetti and meatballs, I hope that’s all right.”

“It’s one of the few dishes she doesn’t mess up,” Andrew explained as he leaned back against the counter.

“What was I saying about manners?” Betsy remarked as she resumed checking the one pot, but Death noticed the fond smile on her face whenever she looked at Andrew – a smile that lost some of its affection when she glanced his way. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

“Ah, why don’t you help me with the table,” Nicky told Erik, who was happy to oblige. Death watched them grab several items and then hurry into the other room, which left him in the kitchen with Betsy and Andrew.

“So you didn’t say if spaghetti was all right, Neil.”

Death gave a slight nod to Betsy Dobson. “It’s fine,” he assured her. “I’ve had it numerous times.” He watched on in fascination as she emptied the sauce out of a jar into a pot. “I’ve never seen it made that way before, though.”

“Oh?” Betsy looked up from the pot to frown at him. “How does your family make it?”

“They don’t,” Death told her as he tugged at his bangs; Wrath always took him to some big banquet or feast, though in the last few decades it had been restaurants and cafés.

“I see.” Betsy’s gaze was once more unnerving as if she was studying him for some reason. “I guess you don’t do much cooking, then?” A few feet away, Andrew shifted about as he stared at his mother.

“No,” Death answered, and managed to suppress a wince at having to tell the truth in such a straight manner as that.

“Hmm, well, Andrew and Nicky can at least fend for themselves if I’m not around,” she commented as she stirred the sauce a little longer then picked up a box of something, which she dumped into what turned out to be boiling water. “But each mother and family is-“

“ _Bee_ ,” Andrew said, his voice containing a hint of heat to it while Death stilled at the mention of ‘mother’. “What did I say?”

Betsy arched an eyebrow at Andrew then shrugged. “It was just a generalized comment, I wasn’t casting any derogative connotations on Neil’s upbringing.”

“New topic,” Andrew insisted as he reached over to pull Death closer to him, which Death didn’t resist even though it made Betsy’s eyes narrow for a moment – at least her smile appeared genuine when she picked up a large wooden spoon to stir the boiling water.

“So how do you find working at the Laughing Fox?”

“I would enjoy it more if your son wasn’t a larcenous glutton who steals my perfectly fine drinks,” Death informed the woman, then let out a yelp when Andrew ground his right foot down on top of Death’s left one. “ _What_?” he asked his friend.

“You’re an idiot,” Andrew informed him, his expression blank but the tiniest spark of red in his eyes.

“And you’re a _glos pautonniah_ \- stop that!” Death glared as he attempted to take a step back, only to be yanked back against Andrew's side. “Churl.”

“Moron.”

“Guttersnipe.”

“Suicidal imbecile,” Andrew shot back as he once more stepped on Death’s foot. “Isn’t it rude to insult your host like this?”

“You’re abusing a guest,” Death pointed out, “and your mother is the one providing the food.”

“That’s stretching things a bit,” Betsy remarked from over by the stove, “but I’d appreciate it if the two of you could keep the insults and violence to a minimum.” She gave them a look over the rims of her fogged up lenses. “I’m beginning to think I need to leave the room to give you a bit of privacy or something.”

Death frowned at that. “Why?” Why did they need privacy to fight each other? They did it in public all the time.

Betsy stared at him while Andrew took to muttering ‘idiot’ beneath his breath; after a few seconds, Betsy looked over at Andrew, her expression one of amusement. “Oh this is just _priceless_.”

“I’m so pleased that my suffering amuses you,” he told her, the heat more pronounced in his voice, and ground his heel into Death’s foot until Death cursed in ancient Sumerian.

“Well, there is a sense of irony to this, I do believe.” Betsy chuckled as she fetched some weird bowl with holes in it from a cabinet and set it in the sink. “And Nicky, the table better be set so stop making out with Erik,” she called out.

There was a faint clattering sound from the other room. “Uhm, okay,” Nicky replied a few seconds later.

“So how do you know Erik, Neil?”

Having managed to free his foot from a certain bastard’s torment, Death glared at Andrew for a moment before he looked over at Betsy. “Ah, I met him in Germany a… while ago, through a mutual friend.” He hoped that she didn’t press for details, since that might make things difficult. “You could say we know each other through common interests.”

“Germany.” Betsy appeared thoughtful as she grabbed the larger pot and dumped its contents in the strange bowl, and Andrew went over to help her with what seemed to be preparing their meal. “Do you travel a lot? That’s an interesting accent.”

“Yes.” He once more tugged on his bangs and wished that she would stop asking questions. “My mother… well, she took me all over the world when I was young,” he admitted, despite Compassion’s admonishment to not talk about his family.

“Oh?” Betsy set the empty pot back on the stove then turned to face him, that sharp gleam back in her eyes. “And what is it that your parents do?”

“ _Bee, stop it_.”

Death hunched over as he thought about the question, his right hand pressed to the healing cuts on his chest. What did his parents do? A slight huff escaped him as he thought about his mother, at how she used to inspire heroes and heroines, had encouraged people to stand up to the gods and monsters, to face their demons and wade into the darkness and unknown. How his father destroyed things, plain and simple. Destroyed lives and hopes and dreams, destroyed things physical and ephemeral, creations big and small. Some said that one needed to break things down so creation could flourish… but Death knew his father just liked the _breaking_ part. “It’s… and old family business,” he managed to say after a few seconds while his fingers dragged through his hair, then shivered when Andrew’s almost feverishly warm hand cupped the back of his neck.

“You don’t have to tell her _shit_ ,” his friend told him. “She’s off the clock now, she shouldn’t be psycho-analyzing you.”

“That’s not-“ Betsy sighed as she pulled something that smelled like garlic out of the oven. “I’m just trying to learn a little more about him, that’s all.”

“All you need to know is that he’s an idiot, he likes tea and cats, he’s got a fucked up family like most of us so don’t talk about them, he swears like it’s the fifteen-hundreds and he sucks as a barista,” Andrew ground out.

“No, I don’t,” Death murmured as he gave his head a slight shake, unwilling to dislodge Andrew’s hand since it felt good. “Not the barista part.” Oh, and not an idiot, he should probably have said.

“Shut up,” Andrew told him. “You do, too.”

“Perhaps your mother needs to look into your larcenous habits.” Death sighed when his nape was given a squeeze. “What?”

“I’ve decided that every time you say that word, you’re buying me a meal. We’re up to three now, but keep going.”

Death frowned at that. “But I’ve only said it twice.”

“No, there was that time earlier today,” Andrew informed him as he let go of Death’s nape to help Betsy again; the woman was staring at them with something similar to bemusement. “ _Three_.”

Death tugged on his bangs as he glanced at Andrew’s adopted mother, uncertain just what he expected from the woman, but certain it wasn’t her looking at Andrew with affection instead of outrage over how the young man was basically extorting meals out of a guest. “Take the pasta into the dining room while I grab the bread and salad,” she told the _larcenous_ – that time Death kept the word to himself – bastard.

“Come on,” Andrew told him as he picked up the one bowl, and led him to another room filled with a large table mostly set for the five of them – along with Nicky and Erik standing off to the side kissing each other. Well, perhaps ‘kissing’ was a bit inadequate for what they were doing, considering how their hands were all over each other and mouths were pressed tightly together.

“Bee, we’re going to need to disinfect everything in here,” Andrew called out as he eyed his cousin with disgust, “Nicky’s grossed it all up while you were doing your Jungian shit with Neil.”

Nicky nearly fell over, he jumped back from Erik so quickly, but Erik managed to catch him in time. “That’s not funny!” Nicky proclaimed while he scowled at his cousin. “We didn’t… uhm, it’s fine!” he yelled, then gave Betsy a nervous smile when she entered the room with a bowl in one hand and a platter of bread in another.

“Then why isn’t the table all set?” she asked him. “And you have a new hickey on your neck?”

Nicky’s hand shot up to cover the left side of his neck while Erik appeared guilty just then. “Uhm… ask Andrew about him almost making out in the parking lot,” he shouted before he dragged Erik into the kitchen.

“We didn’t do anything in the parking lot,” Andrew said as he sat down at the table and pointed at the chair on his left while staring at Death. “He’s lying.”

“Why would we do anything in the parking lot?” Death asked as he sat, a little nervous about Betsy sitting on his other side. “There are more suitable places to make out.” When Andrew gave him a too-flat look, he sighed. “Oh, right, I’m not supposed to talk about sex, even though I don’t believe ‘making out’ qualifies as it. My apologies.”

“Shut up and eat before I throttle you,” Andrew said as he shoved the bowl filled with green things – a salad, Death thought – at him.

Death thought about that for a moment, during which Nicky and Erik returned with what looked to be glasses and two bottles of wine. “With all of your comments about throttling me and collars, is it possible that you have what is referred to as a neck fetish?”

“Oh my god, I am _never_ forgetting this night as long as I live,” Nicky gasped as he almost dropped a couple of the glasses.

“It is a valid question, yes?” Erik asked while he nodded, though that red spark was back in Andrew’s now almost golden eyes.

“I hate to admit that yes, it is indeed valid, and it’s definitely time for the wine,” Betsy remarked as she reached over to take away the dull knife by Andrew’s plate for some reason. “This is fascinating, it’s as if he has no super-ego at _all._ ”

“Great, you can study his brain after I bash his head in for being a _huge fucking idiot_ ,” Andrew snarled. “ _No sex talk_ , get it?” he snapped at Death, who blinked at the amount of force behind those words.

“It was just a casual ob-“

“ _Shut up and eat_.”

Death sighed as he gazed into the bowl of leaves, which he didn’t care for at all, then blinked again when Betsy took it from his hands. He glanced up at her and noticed that she was once again giving him that sharp look, and was quick to duck his head.

“You’re not eating.” Andrew gave his abused foot a gentle – for the bastard – kick then snatched up his plate to dump a large pile of pasta and a couple of lumps of meat on it.

“ _Runknisse_ ,” Death muttered as he took his plate back. “Uhm, thank you.”

“Eat. You can’t spout a bunch of stupid shit if you’re eating.”

Sighing once again, Death picked up his fork and began to twirl the pasta around on it, while Betsy uncorked the wine and poured it into everyone’s glasses. She hesitated a moment while gazing at him, then shrugged. “If you lived in Europe, then I bet you’re used to having some,” she said as she gave him a glass of red wine. “Just don’t drink too much, okay.” She seemed to be looking at Andrew while she spoke.

“You know denying someone something only makes them want it even more,” Andrew argued as he was quick to snatch the glass she handed him.

“I thought you said no psycho-analysis tonight, and I don’t want to have to bail you out for underage drinking,” Betsy said as she started to fill her own plate with food. For a short while everyone was busy eating; Death found the meal enjoyable and interesting, especially watching Andrew cut or tear everything into small pieces.

After a few minutes, Betsy sipped some wine and smiled, as if pleased that everyone was eating the meal that she had prepared. “So Erik, Neil said that the two of you met in Germany?”

Erik paused in eating to smile at her, while Nicky appeared to grow tense beside him. “Yes, it was some time ago, around… ah, Stuttgart, yes?” He waited for Death to nod in agreement, since that was the human name for the city that had grown up around Erik’s ancestral lands. “I was on an adventure with a friend of his and our paths crossed, as they’ve done ever since.”

“I see.” Betsy had a bite or two of pasta then nodded. “I guess that explains how a teenage barista knows someone who is an antique appraiser from Germany, then.”

“Come on, thanks to social media I know a banker in Russia and teacher in Brazil,” Nicky said with a laugh. “It’s common these days.”

“I suppose.” Betsy didn’t seem that convinced of things. “It works out well, for you and Andrew.”

“Not when I’m stuck with an idiot with no filter,” Andrew complained.

Death opened his mouth to complain, and ended up with another kick to his ankle and the remainder of his wine being stolen. When he muttered beneath his breath, his ankle was kicked again. “If I find out any of those fancy insults of yours mean ‘larcenous’ as well, it’s being added to the owed dinner totals,” Andrew warned him before tossing back _Death’s_ wine.

Death scowled at his plate while he shoved a forkful of pasta into his mouth, and across the table Erik gawked at Andrew in amazement. “You… you treat _him_ , like that?” the light elf asked in evident disbelief.

“Eh? Well, it’s a bit rude, but that’s Andrew for you,” Nicky said while he poked at his own dinner. “Neil doesn’t seem to mind too much, does he?”

“But he’s-“ Erik seemed to catch himself in time and shook his head. “ _I know we are guests, but if you are offended, let me know_ ,” he told Death in Vandalic.

“ _It’s fine_ ,” Death countered, while Andrew, Nicky and Betsy stared at them in confusion – well, Nicky did, while Betsy looked on in interest and Andrew kicked Death’s ankle _yet again_ , his expression blank.

“Obviously, we’re missing something here,” Betsy remarked. “Care to share with the rest of us?”

“No,” Death said, the same time that Erik nodded.

“Andrew needs to treat Neil with more respect.”

“I see, because they’re dating,” Betsy surmised while Nicky gave Erik a simpering smile and Andrew a look which made Death wonder if the light elf’s ending might come about sooner rather than later.

Erik nodded again. “There is that, and the fact that Neil… well, he is of importance,” Erik said after seeming to struggle to come up with the right words, while Death wondered if Compassion and Courage should have given the damn ‘don’t talk about this’ speech to the Ljósálfar. "He-"

"He's an idiot," Andrew snapped. "Can't even make a decent mocha latte." His divine aspect flared as he spoke, enough that Erik noticed and suddenly found the plate of food before him of interest, while Nicky frowned in confusion at his cousin. "Doesn't matter what the family business is or whatever."

The table was quiet for a moment, until Betsy made a faint murmuring sound while she poured herself some more wine - and ignored Andrew when he held out his glass. "While I agree with you that one shouldn't be defined by things like that, you should watch your attempts to belittle a person in such a manner, Andrew." She gave her adopted son a cool look while she held the glass between both hands. "It's not polite and can be detrimental to someone's self-image."

Andrew's upper lip curled a little as he set his glass back down and picked up a piece of the garlic-flavored bread instead. "He calls me a 'churl' and... what's that one word? Runknisse? Care to translate that, Neil?"

Erik choked on his wine for a moment while he shook his head. "Ah, it means-" he winced when Nicky did something to his side. "Ah, never mind."

Death merely blinked his eyes a couple of times as he twirled more pasta around his fork. "I'm sure it loses something in the translation. Thank you for the pleasant dinner," he told Betsy with a slight bow of his head.

She continued to study him for a few seconds before she returned her attention to Andrew. "I'm beginning to understand things better now."

"I'm so happy for you," Andrew muttered in-between bites of the bread.

Then she directed that searching gaze toward Nicky. "I also believe I understand why you changed tonight's dinner plans," she told the fidgeting young witch, a hint of a smile on her face that made him even more anxious.

Nicky waved his hands in the air for a moment then pointed at Death. "Did Neil tell you about his cat hoarding problem? Ask him about that!"

"What. The. _Fuck_." Andrew looked ready to throw something at his cousin, such as the knives he kept hidden beneath his sleeves.

However, all Betsy did was smile while she shook her head. "Hmm, interesting, but we'll get to that another time. So, Erik, please tell me _all_ about yourself."

"Oh hell," Nicky muttered right before he drained the remaining wine in his glass while Erik - always one who enjoyed telling stories - beamed and began speaking. That allowed Death and Andrew to finish their meals in relative peace.

As soon as Andrew was done eating, he tugged Death away from the table. "We'll leave you to the interrogation," he commented, which seemed odd to Death – they were eating dinner, not torturing people, yes? Betsy waved them away with a nod and a smile while Nicky sent them a pleading look, and they carried their plates into the kitchen where Andrew indicated for them to put them in the sink. After he grabbed one of the golden boxes which Erik had brought as gifts, he then gestured for Death to follow him again and led the way to a bedroom.

Judging from the stack of mythology books on the desk, Death assumed it was Andrew's bedroom, and he sat in the chair while his friend stretched out on the bed. It wasn’t a large room, mostly taken up by the furniture which consisted of the bed, the desk, a nightstand, dresser and two bookshelves, with various small photos scattered about giving it small personal touches. There was one on the desk with Andrew in a black robe decorated with a colorful sash over his shoulders and an odd hat on his head, with a smiling Betsy and Nicky standing next to him while he stared blankly ahead. "Your mother is interesting," Death told his friend; he was grateful to be away from her scrutiny, but on the whole, Betsy Dobson seemed an intelligent, kind woman.

"She's decent," Andrew said, which seemed odd, but Death supposed that for someone who had needed to pray to a Fury while a child... 'decent' spoke volumes. "She tends to treat most people like a potential patient, but other than that, she's all right." While he spoke, he pried open the box to reveal an assortment of chocolates, which he examined for a moment then began to eat.

"I see." Death smiled a little at his friend's antics. "Why do you love sweets so much?"

Andrew seemed to consider the question while he chewed then shrugged. "Because they taste good. Because things like these were rare when I was growing up - they didn't hand out chocolates often to foster kids." Andrew had another piece. "Why don't you like sweets?"

"Because they didn't have things like that at all when I was growing up, perhaps?" Death rested his right arm on the back of the chair as he thought about the question. "I like fruit, things that are fresh and tart, but things like that are too sweet and cloying, too... too artificial." He shook his head before resting his chin on his palm.

"Hmm." Andrew seemed to think about it for a few seconds. "Means I don't have to share."

Death rolled his eyes at that. "No." He rolled his eyes again at Andrew's single-mindedness when it came to sweets. "Do I have to stay here until Erik leaves? I think he was hoping for some time with Nicky." That and he didn't want to hear about any other 'perky' features that Nicky might have.

"I can take you home." Andrew paused to give him a blank look. "That eager to leave?"

"Not really, I just don't want to hear Erik wax poetic about any other of your cousin's body parts," Death confessed. "Why am I the only one told not to talk about things?" he asked while Andrew grimaced.

"Because you're an idiot."

"Ah, I should have expected that answer." Death sighed and slumped down a little, until he felt a twinge in his chest; the wounds were mostly healed, but not entirely. "There are places where I'm worshipped and even adored, if not feared. I'm not saying it's _good_ , but it would be a welcome change right now." For his troubles, he had a small ball of paper thrown his way, which he batted aside. " _Very_ welcome."

"Poor little idiot," Andrew sneered. "Go ward up another necromancer or something if it makes you feel better."

Death stilled at that for a moment. "Ah, I see that someone has been talking." He tugged at his bangs as he resisted the urge to alter his clothes. "Was it Wrath?"

Andrew contemplated the box on his bed for several seconds before selecting another piece of chocolate. "Yes," was all he said, his voice calm. "It sounded like the asshole deserved it."

"I see," Death repeated. "And yes, the 'asshole' did." Death focused on those wards for a moment, on the minute bit of energy that kept them going, and on the life they contained, the small spark he refused to allow to extinguish. "Two hundred and sixty-five, the lives he ended prematurely," he explained. "That he ended without regard in an attempt to extend his own. He sought out the youngest ones, the children, and treated them like you do your meat." He met Andrew's hazel eyes and found that flame blazing in them, so bright and potent. "He didn't even give them the dignity of treating them like a sacrifice, to treat them with respect and honor and to make it quick."

"So you... what? You took away his followers and you warded him in his made-up church, giving him the thing he wanted most in the worst possible way?" Andrew asked, the box of chocolates seemingly forgotten at the moment.

"Yes," Death agreed. "I made him watch as I collected those owed lives from those people who had foolishly put their faith in him, all those people who were giving him power - I took it from him." He smiled then, the expression that he hated because it reminded him of his father, the expression which had made Mandek Teodor Kowal tremble in fear before him. "Then I denied him his end until such a time when I felt he deserved it, and I warded him in a space little bigger than the graves of his victims. I am not a Fury - none of his victims lived long enough to call one forth, but I felt that some justice had been served."

Andrew seemed to consider something as he once more looked into his box of sweets. "What about the gods? There are gods of justice and revenge, aren't there?" His expression was thoughtful, but there was a rough edge to his voice and that spark still in his eyes.

"The problems with gods is that they are the creation of humans," Death reminded his friend. "Why do you think there are Furies?"

"And you? What about you and your parents?" Andrew asked that question as he once more looked at Death.

All he could do was give him that smile he'd learned from his father, so sharp and cruel. "I told you, I was never mortal, and neither were my parents."

"Does that mean you were never human?"

Death let that smile speak for him, and feared that Andrew would never look at him the same way.

The room was quiet for several seconds before Andrew sighed. "Come here." When all Death did was stare at him for the command, his hazel eyes narrowed and he gave a curt flick of his fingers. "Come here now."

Why was it that he always did what this mortal demanded? Something to figure out another time, Death supposed, as he went over to sit on the bed within Andrew's reach, and watched with growing curiosity as his friend sorted through the remaining chocolates for a certain piece which he picked up and raised to Death's mouth. "Try this."

"Uh-ofm!" Death glared over the chocolate being shoved into his mouth, to which Andrew gave a bland look back, then sighed and chewed it. There was a bit of bitterness from the dark chocolate, which wasn't too bad... and then the tartness of lime. He arched an eyebrow at the taste, which was still sweet but not too much, before he swallowed. "It was... better than I expected."

"Too bad, you're not getting any more," Andrew told him while placing a protected hand over the box, much like a dragon protecting its precious hoard.

"There _truly_ is something wrong with you," Death murmured as he licked at his lips.

"Look who's talking." Andrew's gaze appeared fixated on Death’s mouth for some reason, which made Death's body feel warm and his chest tight.

"Ah... I feel like I want you to kiss me again."

Andrew groaned as he set the chocolates aside. "You really need to learn when to shut the hell up," he said, even as he reached out to slide his fingers through Death's hair. "Yes or no?"

"Uhm, yes?" Death blinked as he was tugged forward, then sighed into the kiss as Andrew's lips pressed against his own. The touch made the warmth flare up inside of him, along with an odd lethargy, and he tasted chocolate when he parted his lips and felt Andrew’s tongue brush against his own. It was… it was strange and wonderful at the same time, and his fingers twitched with the need to touch Andrew.

Soon enough, Andrew pulled away, his expression thoughtful as his fingers skimmed along Death's left cheek. "Come on, you can treat me to some ice cream for dessert."

"But... you just ate all of that chocolate," Death argued as he tried to still the frantic beating of his heart. Why did it act like that from such a simple gesture?

"And now I want some ice cream," Andrew stated. "It's how you'll pay me for the ride home."

"But I'm perfectly capable of taking myself home, dam- ow!" Death glared at the bastard, who had just smacked him on the top of his head.

"What did I tell you about going off by yourself? I looked at collars today." Andrew's eyes narrowed when Death went to open his mouth. "Say one word about fetishes and I will-" He fell silent and glared at Death for some reason. " _Not a word_."

"You are _so_ confusing," Death complained as he got off of the bed. "I don't understand why the Fates hate me so much all of a sudden."

"Worry less about them and more about me," Andrew told him as he latched on to Death's left sleeve and pulled him from the room.

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully not too many mistakes, it's been a bad migraine week. And stuff keeps eating up my time, so I'm willing to bet that the Sunday posts will be the main one for the time being (dammit, today was supposed to be a writing day...grrr).
> 
> Anyway, there you go! More Wrath and Bee! And not to be a chocolate snob, but I went with Godiva just because it was an easily identified brand.
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated.  
> *******


	11. Death Goes On a Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter... hmm, a little low key. Maybe? Maybe. We shall see. 
> 
> It was a crazy week. Meh.
> 
> But still, a little happens in it.  
> *******

*******

Towards the end of their shift together on Monday, Andrew leaned against the counter and watched Neil clean the espresso machines. "We're off the next two days."

Neil finished wiping down a nozzle then sighed, his brows drawn together and his expression a bit annoyed; his hood wasn't pulled as far forward as usual, so Andrew had a clear view of his face and the auburn curls covering his forehead.  "That was your usual statement leading toward you telling me something that I'm about to do, wasn't it?" He set the cloth aside and turned to face Andrew. "What is it this time?"

For an idiot, he learned fast. "What _were_ you planning on doing tomorrow?"

"’Were’." Neil sighed again. "Per your orders, have Dan go with me on a few... errands and then probably suffer through an evening with her and Matt if my uncle doesn't return." He arched an eyebrow as if waiting for Andrew to correct his plans.

"You can still do the first part for a bit," Andrew told him, pleased that Neil was taking his 'don't go anywhere alone' rule seriously, "but I'll pick you up when I'm done with class." He didn't like the idea of Neil being out there without him watching his idiot's back, not when they hadn't seen Deception lately. Not with Temperance still lurking around, doing his stalker shit.

Neil nodded after a couple of seconds. "All right, what will _we_ be doing?"

"You can help me study and buy me dinner." Andrew felt his lips twitch when Neil sighed yet again, but refused to smile. "Consider it a learning experience."

"What, learning the limits of your gluttony?"

"Something like that." Andrew shifted a little closer, and caught the moment when Neil's breath hitched, when his eyes widened and body stilled. There were probably a lot of reasons why this wasn't a good idea, such as Andrew's issues and the fact that Neil wasn't even human, but then Neil looked at him like _that_ , with those incredible eyes so wide and wanting yet all he did was lean the slightest bit closer to Andrew, hands careful to stay on the counter and gaze intent on Andrew's face.

They'd kissed three times so far - when Neil had given Andrew his true name, in Andrew's bedroom and when Andrew had left Neil last night, and each time it had been a brief thing, had only been Andrew touching Neil's face or hair and Neil never complaining when things stopped despite his comments on how 'pleasant' it had been. Neil never complained - well, about _this_ \- and Neil never pushed, and Andrew found himself unwilling to let go.

He had just started to lean forward a little more when Nicky's loud, obnoxious voice rang out. "Neil! Neil, Oh my god, you have to tell me, is this bad?" He rushed over and shoved himself between Andrew and Neil, which made Neil flinch and Andrew want to stab his cousin. "Erik sent me a text saying that he's taking me to dinner! To dinner at Commis! No one's taken me anywhere like that before, you do stuff like that if you're going to dump someone, right? Take them somewhere they can't cause a scene and then dump them?" He thrust his phone right in Neil's face, and Andrew could tell that the idiot was struggling not to disappear so he shoved his cousin away with a hard push.

"Calm down before I punch you," he warned, and something must have gotten through because Nicky stopped babbling and put his phone away - it probably helped that Matt came over as well.

"It's just... I really like him," Nicky said with a sniff. "I like him so much, he treats me incredible and I know it's just been a few days but I want to make this work. I don't want to think that Betsy maybe scared him off." Tears shimmered in Nicky's brown eyes, which probably prompted Matt to pat him on the back as if to calm him down – the fool should be telling Nicky to shut up.

"Erik's not like that," the Virtue assured him, while Andrew promised himself that he'd track down the elf or whatever Erik was and skin him alive if he was.

"No, he's not," Neil agreed. "I don't believe he's 'dumping' you," he told Nicky. "Meeting your... uhm, foster mother?" He looked at Andrew, who nodded at the term since it best described what Bee was to Erik - hell, she was more his mother than Maria ever had been - "Ah, meeting your foster mother and gaining her approval is an important step in his culture. He’s probably trying to... uhm." Neil shot Matt a pleading look.

"He's stepping things up, bro," Matt told Nicky as he once more patted him on the back. "Taking them to the next level, I'm willing to bet. Be prepared for some serious wooing."

"Really?" Nicky looked back at Matt as he wiped away the tears, a tentative smile on his face. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. Erik's old school at this stuff," Matt assured him.

"Oh my god," Nicky gasped, then turned back to Andrew with a determined look. "Come on, we have to go! I have to get ready!" Before Andrew could tell his cousin ‘no’, Nicky was already gone, probably to harangue Wymack about them leaving a few minutes early, so Andrew rolled his eyes and jabbed Neil in the left shoulder.

"Keep your phone charged and powered on so I can text you tomorrow about what time I'll pick you up."

"Yes, yes." Neil pulled the device out of his back pocket to show him that it was indeed powered on. "Dan has been helping me with it."

"She showed him Youtube and cat memes, and he's been happy ever since," Matt confided in Andrew while Neil appeared offended, as if he'd been betrayed.

"Why am I not surprised," Andrew drawled, while Neil stared down at his phone.

"But it's interesting, what they have to say," Neil stated before he put his phone away.

"What, the people filming their cats doing stupid things?"

Neil looked at Andrew as if there was something wrong with him. "No, the _cat_ s."

Wait, _what_? Before Andrew could question that absurd statement, Nicky reappeared and grabbed Andrew by the strings of his apron. "Come on, we've been given a reprieve. Or, well, Wymack said he got sick of my whining and for us to go. Either way, it works and I've already clocked you out. Bye!" Nicky grinned at everyone as he took his life into his own hands and dragged Andrew away.

Andrew waited for them to get into the car before he said anything. "Watch yourself around Neil."

Nicky paused in fussing with his hair to gape at Andrew. "What? Watch myself how?"

The pest had heard the speech before, he should know better by now. "Keep your hands to yourself and don't crowd him so much. Not everyone appreciates it when you get in their face." Andrew spared his cousin a dirty look before pulling out into the traffic.

"But I-" One more look from Andrew once they were out on the street made Nicky fall quiet and consider things for almost a minute. "Okay, but I figured it wasn't a big deal, right? I mean, that whole thing about him not liking anyone was wrong since he's into - _what_?" Nicky flinched when Andrew smacked his right fist into the dashboard near him.

"Wrong answer," Andrew told him, his tone almost reasonable... but Nicky knew him well enough to pick up on its slight edge. "One exception to the rule doesn't mean it's fine for you to hang all over him or bother him. So mind yourself around him, or I'll do the minding." Nicky might have some reasons for being all fucked up, but it didn't excuse his behavior, for him to stomp all over another person’s boundaries like that.

Nicky was quiet for about a mile or two then huffed a little. "You like him, you really like him, don't you?" He twisted about in his seat to better face Andrew - it also but a bit more distance between them.

"I don't have to like someone to have you act like a decent human being," Andrew snapped at his cousin, who seemed to be completely missing the point.

"Yeah, but go on, tell me you don't like Neil," Nicky goaded him on with a smile. "Tell me you're not being all over-protective because he's your boyfriend and you don't like the idea of anyone getting near him."

"I will shove you out of this car without any remorse," Andrew promised. "Except for cutting through your seatbelt to make sure you fall out." That wiped away that stupid smile. "This isn’t about me liking Neil, it’s about you bothering him by not respecting the fact that he doesn’t appreciate it when people get in his personal space, so stop it. And don't think I didn't figure out that you only invited Neil to dinner yesterday in an attempt to distract Bee from Erik." An attempt that had failed in the end. "You're going to owe me for that."

The manipulative bastard gave a nervous laugh as he pressed even closer to the passenger door. "But it worked out for you, right? Bee seems to like him."

Andrew looked away from the road long enough to give him a flat look, until Nicky sighed and shook his head. "Fine, I get it, butt out and leave you to do that weird thing you do."

"It'll be a first," Andrew muttered.

"It's amazing, how much you and Aaron are-“ Nicky yelped when the dashboard was hit again. "Sorry! It just slipped out," he apologized with his hands held out as if to ward off a blow.

Andrew didn't say anything after that, too focused on keeping the anger he felt contained inside of him as he drove home; he didn't want to hear about how 'similar' he was to his twin, to the brother his 'dear' mother had kept. By the time they had reached home, he had it somewhat in check and Nicky all but ran into the house while he took his time to have a cigarette to help calm himself a little more.

So it wasn't a surprise to find Bee waiting for him in the kitchen once he had changed his clothes, a mug of hot chocolate in her hand which she gave him once he was in reach. "I assume it's a good thing, that Nicky will be out for most of the night."

"Yes," he told her before he blew on the hot drink to cool it down. "Maybe Erik will keep him for the rest of the week."

"I see." Bee picked up her own mug but didn't drink from it. "That was the one thing he was happy about, from the little he told me."

Andrew gave a non-committal grunt before he sipped his drink then decided it needed a little longer to cool off. "I'll be going out with Neil after class tomorrow," he told her, figuring that he might as well get it out of the way and maybe distract her from the potential 'be nicer to your cousin' speech.

"Hmm," Bee hummed, which was annoying, when she did stuff like that - it meant she was prodding people for a response, to get them to expound upon what they'd just said. Well, he wasn't falling for that and took another sip even if it still was hot.

She gazed at him for several seconds and then sighed. "Look, I... well, okay, for the most part I like Neil," she admitted as she set her mug down and then frowned while she clasped her hands in front of her. "He's a good looking young man, seems intelligent and, the odd comments aside, to have manners. There's something about him...." She squinted a little as if she was puzzling something out, something that was just out of reach, then shook her head. "He doesn't seem the type of person one warms up to right away, it’s… it’s difficult to define, that air about him.” Then she smiled at Andrew. “But I can understand why you would like him, that oddness aside.” Her smile strengthened. “Or perhaps _because_ of it.”

“Very amusing,” he told her before having more of his hot chocolate.

However, her smile soon faded. “Yes, I can understand, yet I must admit that I’m a bit worried about the attraction all the same.” She folded her arms over her chest while she regarded him with open concern. “You’ve known him for what, a week or so? And I’m already hearing about you making out in parking lots-“

“We weren’t making out,” Andrew corrected her.

“Excuse me, _almost_ making out,” Bee reiterated, “though was that the case when the two of you went off to your bedroom after dinner?” she asked, and arched an eyebrow when all he did was give her a flat look in return. “Yes, I thought so, considering the color on Neil’s cheeks when the two of you left. You seem to be moving a bit fast.”

Andrew scoffed into his mug. “You’re giving me this talk, when you have to make sure that Nicky has condoms on him before he goes out each night and doesn’t do something stupid?” He was feeling more than a little offended at the moment. “So we’ve _kissed_ a couple of times, what of it?”

A hint of exasperation crept into Bee’s voice. “We’re not talking about Nicky and his issues right now,” she argued. “It took almost three months before you even acknowledged that you were dating Dante, and another two before I saw any sort of physical intimacy between the two of you. Less than two months after that, you broke up. It was a little better with Patrick, but you barely lasted five months with him.”

Because once things reached a certain point with their ‘physical intimacy’, as Bee had so wonderfully phrased it, Dante and Patrick hadn’t respected Andrew’s boundaries, hadn’t understood that there were things that Andrew was willing to do and _wouldn’t_ do, no matter the pleading or arguing or – in Patrick’s case – pushing. “Neil’s not like them,” was all Andrew said, and felt a hint of amusement at the statement; truer words were never spoken.

Bee gazed at him for several seconds, clearly waiting for him to elaborate. “Look, Andrew, you’re an adult and a very intelligent one at that. You’ve grown into everything I’d hoped for you.” Her expression softened as she stared at him, into something that always made him uncomfortable because he never knew how to react to the open emotions in it, to the approval and affection directed at _him_. “Part of me is so happy to see you opening yourself to someone like this, to finding someone to argue with and spend your free time with and everything… I just want to make sure that _you’re_ all right.” She laughed a little. “It’s not so much me, the psychiatrist, asking these questions but me as a mother. It’s always so astonishing to me, when that protective feeling takes hold – how powerful it is.”

It astonished him, too, that someone would ever think to protect him… and that it was this woman, out of so many. Not Tilda, not any of the women at the foster agencies, not Cass, but the woman with the glasses and the candy bar and the stupid figurines in her office and the barely masked OCD.

“You should have just gone with cats,” he told her, “your life would have been so much simpler.”

Bee laughed at that and shook her head as she picked up her hot chocolate. “Perhaps, but then I’d have to put up with the hair and the mess and everything.” She glanced around the neatly organized house, where everything was structured per her certain order and kept perfectly clean; Andrew had never minded that, considering some of his past foster homes, and Bee always pitched in with the chores. “No, two young men are just fine.”

He wondered what she would do when he and Nicky finally moved out – Nicky would graduate in another year, though it might take him a little while to find a good job. After that it would just be a couple of years for Andrew, and then Bee would have the place to herself. Would she take on another foster child, some troubled kid like Andrew? Or enjoy a well-deserved rest?

For some reason he didn’t like the thought of her being alone, though he supposed that Abby and Wymack would still be around. He went to make himself some more hot chocolate as a distraction, and noticed that there were planted pots on the window of the sink, what looked to be an attempt to grow herbs or something. Hmm, more of Nicky doing stuff with Abby? He had to talk to Neil about that the next day, since all his cousin had said was that Abby was teaching him more stuff, and taking the time to grow things implied that it wasn’t just a smoothie or two to help with hangovers or colds.

Since Bee appeared to have said her peace on the Neil topic, they talked a little about the upcoming week before Andrew went to his room to study before going to bed. He woke up to find a message from Nicky on his phone that the pest would get a ride to class from Erik and a bunch of smiley-faced emojis, so he took it to mean that things were going well on that front (at least, as well as things ever went with Nicky’s ‘relationships’), and had some coffee and a protein bar before heading off to campus.

Once there, he spent some time working out, his headphones on as he lifted weights and did some cardio for about an hour, grabbed a quick shower then hit the café on campus for something to get him through his Tuesday classes, which were English lit and Research Methods in Criminal Justice. In-between the two classes, he texted Neil to let him know when he’d be picking up the idiot, and checked his phone after leaving the second class to find a text waiting for him that Neil was ‘back’ and waiting for him.

There was no sign of Matt’s truck when Andrew arrived at the apartment building, and he swore he caught sight of a tall figure dressed in black across the street, a figure who – as always – vanished when Andrew got out of his car. Growing annoyed at Neil’s stalker, Andrew stared at the spot where Temperance had been before going inside, and banged on the door to Neil’s apartment until the idiot opened it.

“How far do the wards extend?” he asked as soon as he stepped inside, part of him noticing that Neil was dressed in ripped black skinny jeans and a sleeveless dark grey hoody over a white t-shirt. Hmm, had someone dressed him again?

“Ah, the apartment wards?” Neil gazed at Andrew with his head cocked to the side until Andrew nodded. “There are more specific ones around the apartment itself, and general ones around the building. All of them block out Deception and Temperance, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“How far can you cast them?”

Neil sighed as he rubbed at his forehead. “It’s best to set them on some sort of physical structure, such as a building or a doorway or leylines. Extending them like you’re suggesting is doable, we could probably ward the block, but we need a reason – we’re cutting off two Named Ones from potentially doing their job. Right now what we’re doing falls under protecting our abode.”

Andrew thought about that. “It’s those damned rules again, isn’t it?” He felt a spark of anger inside of him when Neil nodded. “Who all can cast wards? Do you have to be a Named One to do it?”

Neil shook his head. “No, you just need an adequate amount of power.”

Power, huh? “Can I do it?”

“I… hmm.” Neil’s brows drew together and he held out his right hand toward Andrew, near his chest but didn’t touch until Andrew gave a slight nod in approval. “I… despite the blood being thin, Apollo’s aspect is very strong in you. I believe you could.”

“And how do you create a ward?” Andrew demanded to know. “You threw one up pretty quick the other day so it has to be easy, right?”

“I don’t see this ending very well,” Neil muttered as he tugged at his hood, which made Andrew flick at the fabric with his fingers. “It’s a matter of intent,” the idiot explained a moment later, after he batted at Andrew’s hand. “You _will_ the ward into being while thinking of what you want it to do, about who you want to let in or to keep out, and what you want it to protect.”

That didn’t sound too hard, so Andrew would try it later. “All right, if an idiot like you can do it I’m sure I can, too.” He blinked at Neil’s sudden glower. “What? Come on, let’s get going.”

“You are _such_ a- seriously, there are no words for you,” Neil declared. “Where are we going?”

Andrew shrugged as he tapped the fingers of his left hand against the strap of his backpack, which was slung over his shoulder. “I’m not sure yet, but we’ll figure something out.” He went into the kitchen to check for alcohol, and felt some satisfaction to find several bottles in the one cabinet; he grabbed one of the whiskeys and arched an eyebrow at Neil. “Go ahead and say it, owe me another dinner.”

“I don’t see why it matters, you make me pay for everything anyway, you cheap glutton.” Neil folded his arms over his chest and glared; since Andrew didn’t smell any weird herbal shit from him, just that odd, invigorating scent he normally got from Neil, he assumed that his friend had healed.

“Someone’s learning,” Andrew said as he slipped the bottle into his backpack, along with his books and laptop. “Speaking of which, I’m getting hungry, so it’ll be somewhere we can eat and I can work on a paper that’s due Thursday.”

Neil seemed to debate something then held out his right hand. “Do you trust me?”

That was an odd question, considering what Andrew had told the idiot the last couple of days and all. That Andrew knew Neil was Death and allowed him into his home, to meet Bee. Still, all Andrew did was nod as he accepted Neil’s hand. “Yes.”

“Okay.” Neil gave him that tentative smile of his – and the next thing Andrew knew was that the world shimmered around him before twisting about, before becoming darkness and nothing yet absolute vastness and then he was wavering about on his feet while his stomach threatened to rebel and he clutched at Neil’s hand as if it were a lifeline.

“Hmm, I thought you might take to it a bit better,” Neil told him as he helped Andrew to remain on his feet.

“What the _fuck_?” Andrew swore, and he slowly realized that they weren’t in the apartment anymore, that they were standing on the porch or deck something of a stone building that overlooked a vast forest of huge trees, that the air was clear and cool and the sun was setting, and they definitely weren’t in Oakland anymore. “Where are we?”

“Uhm, you could say we’re around Baden-Baden, in Germany,” Neil explained. “In a lodge owned by some friends of Erik’s.”

Germany. They were in Germany. Andrew stared out over what his brain told him had to be the Black Forest and didn’t know if he wanted to shove Neil off the deck or whatever or kiss him. Maybe both. Both would be good.

Before he could, a blonde woman stepped onto the deck, her long hair falling down her back and shining in the fading sunlight, her dress… it wasn’t quite right, her dress. Andrew tried to figure out what it was about the white and green fabric, and decided that it was the cut and gleam to it, a bit too shiny and archaic. It glowed in a way that had nothing to do with the light reflecting off of it, and it twisted about and tied closed in a way he’d never seen – with no obvious buttons or zippers or other modern fasteners.

She spoke to Neil in some odd language, and he spoke back in German. “ _We are here for refreshments, to stay a few hours, if you don’t mind_.”

“ _Of course, Named One. You and your guest are most welcome_ ,” she told him with a deep bow. “ _Come this way, please._ ” She motioned with her right arm back the way she’d come, the deep bell sleeve of her dress almost brushing against the stone floor.

“Does she know who you are?” Andrew asked as they followed her into the lodge, which also appeared to be a mix of modern and archaic features – pale grey stone and gleaming dark wood and glass everywhere, with odd lights that didn’t appear to be electric casting a bright blue glow from their metal and glass cages hanging from the walls, an ancient fortress in the fairy tale forest yet comfortable-looking couches and chairs strewn about in front of the huge fireplaces.

“Yes, this place… you can say it caters to my kind,” Neil explained. When Andrew’s eyes narrowed in displeasure at the thought of anyone being able to come there, Neil shook his head. “It’s a sanctuary of sorts, in that no fighting is allowed here. The wards have been expertly crafted in that you can’t pass through them with ill intent.”

Andrew’s expression thoughtful as he looked around some more. “You can do that?”

“It takes more effort and energy, but yes.” By that point, the woman had led them to a round table by one of the fireplaces; Andrew took the padded chair in the corner so he could look out over the room and sank into its comfortable cushions, while Neil gave her a nod in appreciation.

“ _What would you like to eat and drink_?” she asked.

“ _Ah, some wine and cheese, perhaps some sandwiches as well_?” Neil said while glancing at Andrew. “ _And some sweets_.”

“ _I’ll have the kitchen prepare you a selection_ ,” she said before turning away.

“Well, it’s quiet, I’ll give you that,” Andrew commented as he set his backpack on the table and pulled out his books and laptop. “I suppose it’s too much to ask for wifi?”

“No, it should have it,” Neil assured him as he sat back in his chair. “Compassion brought his tablet here last time, something about some show he wanted to watch that was rather inane.” He shrugged as he toyed with his bangs. “Courage made him put the thing away after a few minutes, for which I was grateful.”

“She seems to be the boss in that relationship,” Andrew agreed as he powered on his laptop. “So back to those wards – if you can lock out people with ill intent, why don’t you do that for your block?”

Neil sighed as he left his bangs alone and shook his head. “Because you can’t filter out certain Named Ones from others unless you make the effort to be very specific which means more energy, or you'd have to block everyone with ill intent, which means that a lot of people would be barred from the area and then people would notice the wards. And it takes a lot of energy, to do something like that. There’s always a cost involved, the more intricate the casting.”

It figured that it couldn’t be as easy as that. “But you’re safe here?” Andrew wanted to be certain about that or else they'd leave.

“Yes, I’m safe here and a few other places.” Neil glanced around the lodge. "We always need somewhere that is neutral ground to gather, to discuss things and the like."

"Or bring an uppity demi-god to study?" Andrew remarked as he remembered Wrath.

The description pulled a true smile from Neil, which made Andrew’s stomach flip about once more. "Yes, it works quite well for that, too. You might like your bookstores and cafés, but this...," he paused to look around a little more. "They're more used to my kind here."

Andrew supposed that meant how a lot of people seemed to be put off by Neil, how they went out of their way to avoid him and the like; he didn't mind it so much since it gave the both of them more space and kept anyone from coming too close to the gorgeous idiot.

He'd just accessed the wifi when the blonde woman returned with a large tray of food and drinks - he noticed that the tips of her ears were slightly pointed, not as exaggerated as in the movies but distinct enough to stand out, and that her skin was too smooth as well, that it looked poreless and hairless. She didn't seem concerned with his attention as she set the plates covered with cheese, bread and fruit as well as pastries and sandwiches on the table, along with several glasses, two bottles of wine and a pitcher of water. To be honest, he was surprised that she had carried all of that out without any apparent difficulty.

She gave a slight nod to Neil before leaving, while Neil stared at everything with apprehension. "I'm almost afraid to ask if that's enough for you," he said as he reached for an apple slice.

"It should do for a start," Andrew declared as he dragged the platter of pastries toward him, then picked up a couple of sandwiches after making sure they didn't have anything too weird in them - it looked like some sort of chicken, which was all right. "What do you know about symbolism in ninetieth century Russian novels?"

Neil arched an eyebrow at that. "Really? That is what you're studying?"

"No, it's what I have to write a paper on," Andrew clarified. "I'm a criminal justice major." When Neil just stared at him, he shrugged. "What?"

"But you're the most lar-" Neil snapped his mouth shut when Andrew's eyes narrowed. "That seems like a great irony to me," he said after a few seconds of quiet.

"Very funny," Andrew told him as he flicked a grape at the idiot. "Not as ironic as Death being throttled to death, no?"

"Good luck trying," Neil muttered. "As for your previous question... I may know a little." He went quiet and his eyes did that weird thing again while Andrew munched on a sandwich, and then he tilted his head to the side. "What do you want to know?"

"What, you remember a book you read a century ago or something?"

"No, I... 'remembered' several Russian authors who wrote them, why?" Neil stared at him with those eyes of pure, shining silver. "I'm Death, and everyone passes through me," he told Andrew in that echoing voice of his, so cold and distant. "I give them their ending, and they give me their memories."

That was... that was... Andrew didn't know how to process that, to be honest. "So you remember everything from everyone who ever lived?" That seemed like... okay, still trying to process that, Andrew thought as he picked up what looked to be a cherry danish. It was enough for _him_ to remember everything that had happened in his life, one person, in nineteen years so far.

"It's... it's there for me," Neil tried to explain as he chose another apple slice, along with a piece of some white cheese. "It's not all there at every moment, but at some level I'm aware of everyone passing on, of a piece of them." He stared at the food then set it down as he closed his eyes. "I know what's happening everywhere and with all of the dead, at least part of me does."

Andrew tried to think of how many people died at any moment and shook his head. "So what, you don't focus on it because it's too much?"

"Not in the way you think." Neil opened his eyes, and they shone so bright that once again his face was cast in shadows; it was like gazing into the sun, their brightness, yet Andrew couldn't look away. "Is it too much for me to handle? No," he admitted. "It's my job, it is... it is me. I am Death, and nothing to do with death is more than I can handle. But you've seen how humans react to me, and that’s with most of my nature, my Aspect masked. If I let go with no restraints... Wrath is the only one who can approach me, and even then, only for a short while."

Andrew didn't look away as he poured them both some wine. "So you've done it before?"

"When I first took on this Aspect." Neil must have lowered his eyes, because the brilliant light dimmed a little. "I think... I think I was lost in it for a few centuries, at least." The light dimmed some more as Neil huddled in on himself. "Afterwards... everything was so confusing. I could see the memories, the experiences, but so little of them made sense."

Had the idiot gone too far? Experienced too much power, too much knowledge and... Andrew could only think that maybe Neil had 'burned out' or something, been overloaded in some way - too much trauma, too much change, too much... too much everything. However, Andrew felt the need to talk to Wrath again, even if the man annoyed him to no end.

"Well, if you know something, be of use for once," Andrew told him as he tapped the books he'd set on the table.

Neil sighed as he picked up his glass of wine. "I knew the Fates were capricious, but this... this is just absurd," he muttered before he drained the glass in one go. "Very well, I suppose I'll assist you with this farce."

Andrew flicked another grape at his idiot for that attitude, but they got to work after that and spent a couple of hours on the paper; he noticed that people - and he used that term loosely considering that some of them had horns, hooves, fangs and claws - came and went in the large open area of the lodge, casting curious glances their way until they realized who was sitting beside him and then gaped openly for a few seconds before scurrying away. Hmm, Neil might have been a bit off on assuming that his 'kind' were more used to him, from what Andrew was seeing. The ones least affected were the blonde woman and what Andrew assumed were her fellow 'light elves', the tall people with the too-smooth and luminous skin and graceful gait who carried large trays of food and drink with ease to the other tables.

Once he finished the section on Crime and Punishment (probably why his professor had assigned the stupid topic to him), Andrew nudged Neil in the side. "So is that what Erik really looks like?" he asked as he nodded to the tall blond man walking past their table.

"Hmm?" Neil glanced up from the laptop screen for a moment. "Yes, without his glamour." He gave Andrew a slight smile. "He wears it so he can go out among the humans without attracting too much attention, much like how I mask my Aspect. Given the strength of Nicky's witch blood, I suspect it won't be long before your cousin finds out the truth about his immortal nature."

That reminded Andrew of what he'd been thinking about the night before. "About that - just what all is Abby teaching Nicky?" He narrowed his eyes when Neil all of sudden took an interest in the cheese tray again. "I want an answer this time. What do you know?"

Neil glared at a piece of bread as if it offended him. "I don't like talking about another person's secrets."

"Too bad, I don't like things that might affect my family, even if Nicky is an obnoxious pest who doesn't know the meaning of the word 'boundaries'," Andrew admitted. "What's going on?"

"For the most part, what I've already told you," Neil said. "It's just... Abby is a rather old witch, by your reckoning." He sighed when Andrew's eyes narrowed even more. "Some witch bloodlines contain a lot of power, a lot of...possibility, and Abby's is one of them. She's not like how some of your kind portray witches, she's not evil, and she has no ill will toward Nicky. But he's also of one of those bloodlines and she's giving him the opportunity to reach his full potential."

"So what, he can cast some love spells and the like?" Andrew wasn't sure that was a good idea, considering his cousin's temperament.

"That's a possibility, but this is magic we're talking about - there's a cost to it." Neil's expression turned solemn. "Magic with true power behind it. Abby will make sure he knows the consequences."

"Wonderful." The more Andrew learned about Neil's world, the more complicated it seemed. "Because Nicky so cares about the consequences," he pointed out as he poured the last of the one bottle of wine into his glass.

Neil was quiet for a moment as he toyed with another piece of bread. "He'll have to be, if he's serious about learning from Abigail." Then he looked up to smile at Andrew. "In some ways, the two of you are so different I have difficulties believing you're related. But I believe that _you_ don't care for the consequences, either."

Andrew gave his idiot a cool look for that comment. "What, you think I'm stupid about them like Nicky?"

"No." Neil's head tilted to the side as he regarded Andrew for a couple of seconds through his thick eyelashes. "I believe that you know all about them, you just feel they don't matter, not when it comes to what's important to you." He continued to gaze at Andrew for a few more seconds. "Am I wrong?"

"Shut up and eat your fruit," Andrew told him while picking up the last of the pastries, a chocolate filled croissant; it made his chest ache, the way that Neil knew him that well after such a short time together.

They got another page done on the paper (Prater was going to be surprised at the Russian sources quoted, but Andrew took advantage of Neil's language ability and figured his professor deserved it for handing him such a boring topic) before Andrew had to stop for a bathroom break (modern plumbing, thankfully, though some of the stall sizes and urinal placements were a bit… unusual). He'd told Neil to stay at the table and to behave himself, and shouldn't have been surprised when he came out to find someone talking to the idiot.

She was a tall woman dressed in a long, straight skirt of black and gold, with a rather skimpy black tank top that did nothing to hide her curvaceous figure. Her face was striking, was high cheekbones and full lips and huge, almond-shaped golden eyes, with her black hair cropped short and her skin gleaming a deep gold in the odd light of the lodge. Her attention was focused on Neil as if he was the most important thing in the room, while he had a slight smile on his lips while he spoke to her; for some reason that annoyed Andrew.

"Am I interrupting anything?" he asked as he skirted around the woman so he could sit down while giving Neil a pointed look.

"I don't think so?" Neil appeared confused for a moment. "We weren’t talking about anything of importance, other than for me to explain that I was here with you to assist with your project." He paused for a moment to look at Andrew's laptop. "Ah, Andrew, this is... Bastet."

At first Andrew thought that the woman just had a unique name, that it might be a nickname or something, but then he noticed that the pupils of her eyes were vertical slits and that there was something... something 'off' about her, that she stared at him a little too long without blinking and that he picked up a sense of power to her. His own eyes narrowed as he clicked his tongue. "You and _cats_ \- what is it?"

Bastet smiled, a slight curl of her full lips but a smile none the less. "Impertinent but knowledgeable, I think I like him."

Neil frowned in confusion as he glanced back between the two of him. "Uhm... okay?" He cocked his head to the side as he scooted a little closer in his chair toward Andrew.

"He feels warm to me," Bastet continued as she stroked her left hand along the thick gold bangles she wore on her right wrist. "Hmm... Belobog?" Then she shook her head, the light reflecting off of the thick gold necklace she wore which resembled a collar, a wide band with stars and crescent moons cut out of the precious metal. "No, he's one of Apollo's, isn't he?"

Andrew gave her a bland look as he picked up his wine. "Nice party trick."

"Oh yes, definitely impertinent." Her smile widened until sharp white teeth were revealed. "He's just what you need, Wayfarer." That seemed to be directed toward Neil.

"Need?" Neil's brows furrowed at the comment. "Need how? You make him sound like a coat or something."

Bastet's laugh was rough and low, like a cat's purr, but oddly warm and soothing to hear. "I think he's something much better than a coat, but what do I know? I shall leave you to your work, I merely wanted to stop by and thank you for looking after my little ones." She gave Neil a deep bow, and Andrew noticed that Neil didn't even bother to try to look down her tank top, just merely gave a slight nod as if accepting her abeyance and gratitude.

"You're welcome. I appreciate their company and stories," he told her. When she straightened up, she gave Andrew an odd smirk before she turned away, her walk more a sultry slink than a steady gait, to join a group of people standing around the one long bar.

"Seriously, _what is it_ with you and cats?" Andrew asked. "You can talk to them?"

"Yes." Neil picked up a slice of cheese and nibbled on it, which almost derailed Andrew's thoughts from the absurd topic. "I thought you knew that."

"Sorry, somehow I missed getting my copy of the 'guide to weird shit'," Andrew snarked before he finished off his wine then reached for the carafe of coffee that had been dropped off recently. "Is it just cats or are you a fucking Dr. Dolittle?"

"A what?" Neil frowned for a moment as he seemed to think about something. "Uhm...."

Probably trying to nail down the reference, Andrew surmised. "Can you talk to all the animals?"

"Oh, yes." Neil's frown deepened. "Though some of them are rather rude or don't have much to say."

"Perhaps they don't like talking to idiots." Andrew gave Neil a blank look when he was glared at for that comment. "What?"

"They're better company than some people I can name."

"Hmm, yes, I imagine talking to a warthog would be more fun than Wrath any day."

Neil sighed as he hung his head between his hands, his fingers buried in his thick, loose curls as he muttered in some indecipherable language for several seconds while Andrew fixed his coffee and the people walking past their table glanced at them then scampered away as if anxious. After a few sips of the sweetened drink, Andrew jerked on the edge of his idiot's hood. "Have your nervous breakdown after we finish this paper, there's only another page left."

There was a faint whining sound before Neil raised his head to scowl at him. "Why do I subject myself to this abuse?"

Andrew leaned in close, his face a scant centimeter or two from Neil's so that he could feel Neil's breath against his skin. "I don't know, why do you?" He noticed how Neil's eyes were drawn to his mouth and made a show of licking his upper lip in a slow motion.

Neil's breath hitched as he closed his eyes, and Andrew felt a sense of satisfaction as he pulled away. "Perhaps it is Desire who has a vendetta against me," Neil murmured as if to himself.

"Stop being an idiot and help me find one more source," Andrew commanded as he flicked his fingers at Neil's forehead. "Then you're taking me somewhere else for dinner."

Neil's eyes flew open; there were swirls of silver among the icy blue, faint enough that Andrew wondered if most people would notice but he did. "You've been eating all this time!" He frowned at the plates around them that Andrew had been mostly responsible for emptying.

"So?" Andrew asked as he lit up a cigarette, pleased that no one seemed to care that he was smoking inside; the lodge's servers appeared keen on satisfying their guests' needs and leaving them alone to enjoying themselves.

"I don't...." Neil sighed as he shook his head. "Perhaps it's a demi-god thing."

Perhaps - Andrew had always felt a gnawing hunger while growing up, which hadn't been helped by many of the foster homes he'd been in, by the poor quality of the food or the small portions, by the families who had chosen to punish him for infractions imagined or otherwise by restricting his access to food. It had gotten better after he moved in with Cass, though because of Drake- he didn't want to think of Drake just then.

Bee had noticed his eating habits and done her best to improve them, to allow him some sweets but make him balance it out with other things, to realize that the food would always be there so it didn't need to be hoarded or that he had to eat it all at once. Yet ever since he'd met Neil, he'd felt an increase in his appetite, had craved more food all the time. Was it because of him realizing his true nature, whatever the hell it was?

Something to consider later, he supposed, another item on the ever-growing list. Any time spent with Neil just led to more questions to be asked, more mysteries needing solved. But he wasn’t bored anymore, he had to admit that. Weird shit all around – in this case, literally, as a man with green skin with leaves for hair walked past – but he wasn’t bored, he had a of bottle of liquor stashed in his bag and a gorgeous idiot buying him dinner.

All the weird shit probably meant that when things did finally go to hell, they would on a larger scale than usual… but Andrew was going to be prepared this time. He’d talk to Wrath, even if the prick annoyed him, he’d track down Pride, he’d work with Dan and Matt. He’d figure out the wards and anything else. Because he had a name glowing warm in his chest to protect, and an obnoxiously powerful idiot beside whom almost everyone in the room feared yet who just sat with a tentative smile on his face and asked him where he wanted to go for dinner.

Andrew wasn’t going to lose him.

*******

Once they finished with Andrew’s paper - something which Death suspected the mortal hadn’t really needed his help with in the first place, but it had been… interesting, to do, to spend time with Andrew and see how his mind worked with such things – they went ‘out to dinner’. Andrew wanted pizza and had Death take him to New York City after requesting another bottle of wine from Talianae, the Ljósálfar who had waited on them during their stay at the Shadow’s Retreat sanctuary. Death noticed that Andrew appeared to have picked up his divine ancestor’s ability to imbibe alcohol without much negative effect.

Andrew also reacted much better his second time to going _between_ , or at least masked its effects on him then, only clutching at Death’s arm for a couple of seconds before standing up straight and pulling out his phone so he could find a suitable place for them to order a pizza. They left the secluded alleyway as Andrew led the way, and a short time later were seated on a bench in Central Park with a box of fragrant pizza on Andrew’s lap as he enjoyed his dinner.

“It must be nice, to be able to go anywhere you want with just a thought,” Andrew remarked after he’d finished a couple of slices, while Death had managed just one. “I have my car, but it’s not the same.” He paused to have a sip of wine straight from the bottle. “I’m stuck with roads and how long it takes to get there and back.”

Death supposed that he was volunteering that bit of information in exchange for everything Death had explained so far that day. “It is… but it’s also a little too easy,” he confessed. “Sometimes I’m already on my way somewhere before I even realize it.” The need to _flee_ , to _go away_ , had become instinctual in him after so long. To _stay_? Not so much. “This… whatever it is, with Compassion...,” with _Andrew_ , “has been the longest I’ve stayed in one place for… well, for quite some time.” A few centuries, at least.

Andrew seemed to think about that as he had some more wine then passed over the bottle. “You don’t have a home?”

“I have something.” Death thought about it for a moment then passed back the bottle. “It’s mine, and it’s where I go from time to time when I need to be alone, where I feel safe, but I don’t stay there very long. There’s always something to do, after all.” He could feel it even as he sat there with Andrew. “There’s always people dying.”

“The only certainty in life are death and taxes,” Andrew commented, his deep voice perfectly dry as he picked up a slice of pizza.

“Hmm, actually, that’s not true, that part about taxes,” Death corrected him. “If that were the case, Taxes would be one of us.” He squinted off into the distance as he dwelled upon that for a few seconds. “Huh, I don’t… no, that wouldn’t be pleasant,” he decided. “I’m already dealing with Deception and my father, enough’s enough.” The universe had to draw the line _somewhere_.

Andrew was quiet for a moment, and then he picked up a slice of pizza and all but shoved it at Death. “Eat something, dammit. Seriously, you need to not speak for a while.”

“But-“

“ _Eat_ ,” Andrew insisted, so Death sighed as he accepted the food. “This is absurd, discussing the personification of _taxes_ , of all things. I always knew that my life was one big joke, but I didn’t need it spelled out for me like this.”

Death knew the feeling. He glanced to the side to see Andrew glaring off at nothing before having some more wine, then had another bite of the pizza (which wasn’t bad) before he noticed that a couple of cats were approaching the bench. Smiling at their presence, he pulled apart the remaining bit of pizza and dropped it to the ground so they could eat it. “Hello.”

Looking over at him, Andrew sighed when he spotted the cats. “Wonderful, your fans have found you.” He frowned as he lit a cigarette. “So what’s the deal with Pride?”

“Eh?” The question took Death by surprise. “Pride?  He is one of the most powerful Vices and Deception’s older brother.” He sat back on the bench and nodded in thanks when Andrew handed him a napkin. “Why are you asking?” Had Wrath said something?

“Because I want to know everything that has to do with Deception,” Andrew said, the spark of red back in his eyes. “I get the impression that the two of them don’t get along.”

“One could say that.” Death chewed on his bottom lip as he thought about the two brothers. “Pride accepted the Aspect from his father, and he is an exemplary Vice. He also has little to do with his brother, now and in the past.” Death gave a slight shrug while Andrew stared at him. “I don’t have much to do with him, not when my mother and my uncle used to be two Virtues, nor when his brother… I don’t have much to do with him,” he tried to explain.

Andrew was quiet, his flame-tinged gaze intent and body radiating power, then reached out with his right hand toward Death’s chest until his fingers stopped short of touching. “Does he bother you? Try to harm you in any way?”

“No.” Death shook his head. “Unlike his brother, he has nothing to do with me. If he thought he could use me or benefit from me in some way, I’m sure he’d try, but he can’t.”

There was more silence as Andrew seemed to process that information. "Is that common, being treated that way?" he asked when he did speak, his voice almost expressionless but the light brighter in his eyes. "Back there, at that lodge, no one came over to you except Bastet." He glanced at Death out of the corner of his eye. "We were with your _kind_ and they pretty much ignored you."

"Yes." Death went to tug on his hood but forced his hands to stay in his lap. "For many of 'my kind', it comes down to power." His brows drew together as he thought about what he wanted to say, how to put it into words. "Power often means that they stay popular, that they stay noticed - at least for the gods - and it gives them an advantage. Sometimes I think it gives them something to do, which can be important when one lives so long. But they've learned that I'm not interested in their games or, well, _them_. That I just want to be left alone." He smiled a little as one of the cats jumped up onto his lap and demanded to be petted. "Well, mostly."

"You're such an idiot," Andrew muttered. "The world at your feet, and all you want is to play with cats and to suck at making coffee."

Death blinked at that. "And what do you want?" He sat there rubbing the tabby cat's chin while Andrew gave him a flat look in return, that intense fire flaring for a moment before his eyes returned to normal. "Okay, and I don't suck at making coffee," Death clarified.

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't." Death glared at the larcenous glutton. "The drinks are perfectly fine. Are you sure it's not _your_ taste that is wrong? Perhaps imbibing all that sugar has affected something."

"I think _something's_ affecting me." Andrew eyed the other cat rubbing against Death's legs before breaking off a piece of pizza and tossing it onto the ground. "I've got stuff to do tomorrow, are you going to stay out of trouble or what?"

That… was a sudden change of topic, wasn’t it? "You make it sound like I intentionally get into it." Death gave his friend a puzzled look for that conclusion before shaking his head. "I believe I have to endure another shopping trip with Compassion." Perhaps Wrath would return and save him from his fate, since his uncle's brusque affection was much more welcome than dealing with Compassion's indecision over what brand of human snack to buy... again and again and again. “I shall endeavor to survive without you.”

“Good luck with that.” Andrew didn’t seem very hopeful for Death’s chances, the churl. “Keep your damn phone on you.”

“Yes, I know,” Death sighed. “You mortals and your devices, I dread to see what you’ll come up with next.”

“Your life, so hard,” Andrew told him as he began to break up the remaining slices of pizza then toss them to the ground; Death wasn’t certain if it was the best thing for the cats, but he didn’t sense anything adverse happening to them because of it.

He watched Andrew for a moment, an odd sense of contentment filling him from being next to his friend, and decided to ask the question that had been on the tip of his tongue most of the day since Andrew had gotten a few truths out of him during their time together. “Do you ever wonder about your family… about your mother and father?”

Andrew paused in throwing out the bits of pizza for a moment and then gave a nonchalant shrug before he finished the task; once his hands were clean, he picked up the wine bottle and twisted on the bench to face Death. “No, not after meeting Nicky and seeing how fucked up he was,” Andrew said, his face expressionless and his voice calm. “I learned enough about Tilda to know that, as bad as it was in foster care, it worked out for the best for me to find Bee.” There was a slight, wry twist to his lips as he reached out to give a quick tug to Death’s hood. “Especially once I figured out that I was gay.”

Death never understood what that had to do with anything, why humans had so many prejudices against how others looked like or who they were attracted to or even worshipped, why they found so many reasons to hate each other. Why they often based said prejudices on religion, when the gods he knew were rather… indiscriminate when it came to matters of sex or personal relationships. “Humans make no sense,” he proclaimed. “Truly.”

“Look who’s talking,” Andrew argued as he gave Death’s hood another tug, only to have the tabby reach out to bat at his arm.

“But I – oh, never mind.” Death sighed as he rubbed the tabby’s ear in appreciation for its efforts. “What about your father?”

“Hmm?” Andrew stopped scowling at the cat to look at him. “The sperm donor? I don’t even know who he is, just that he’s related to Apollo somehow and has appalling taste in women.”

“What if I could help you find him?” Death offered.

“That’s possible?” Andrew’s eyes narrowed when Death nodded, then grew thoughtful. “Hmm… no. I’ve made it this far without the asshole, I don’t need him to mess up things now. And after doing some research, I’m in no hurry to meet Apollo, either.”

In a way, Death couldn’t blame his friend, considering how things stood with his own family. “I wasn’t offering for _that_ ,” he said with a slight wince. “He most likely would either ignore you or try to get you to do some sort of quest which wouldn’t end well.” Something that would benefit Apollo but not Andrew, as was usually the case for most demi-gods.

“So you’ve said before. I get the impression that us demi-gods aren’t thought of much.” Andrew didn’t seem affected by that fact as he drained the last of the wine; meanwhile, the tabby gave one last rub to Death’s hand and thanked him for the petting before jumping down to grab a large piece of pizza and running off with the other cat.

“It’s because you’re not fully human but you’re not truly a part of my world, either, not unless you happen to have a powerful aspect and then….” He gave Andrew a sad smile. “Those are often the demi-gods you hear about in stories, such as Hercules or Cu Chulainn or Gilgamesh.”

Andrew snorted at that. “Why am I not surprised? Yet another way to be fucked over, so it’s the same old, same old.”

So it seemed, considering that Andrew was one of those powerful demi-gods that his life had been such that he had needed a Fury’s intervention, that he had somehow been drawn into Death’s world after all. Yet if there was one thing that Death was certain of after living so long, after seeing so much and having all the power at his command, it was that Andrew would not go the way of Perseus and Orpheus and those other demi-gods. That _this_ one being wouldn’t be used up and broken, at least no more than he had already been. Death didn’t know what it was that Tisiphone wanted of Andrew, if Apollo knew about his descendent or not, but _no more_ would Andrew be used.

Death… no, _Abram_ knew what it was like to be used, to be ‘fucked over’, and he wouldn’t allow such a fate to befall Andrew, no matter the cost.

“I believe it’s safe to say that you will never be approached to be a Muse of any sort, other than Tragedy,” Death said as he leaned a little against Andrew.

Andrew shrugged a little as if to dislodge Death then sighed. “I hate you.”

That statement made Death frown. “Really?” It didn’t _sound_ like Andrew hated him, and there was the kissing, not to mention he said ‘no’ about the hate sex.

“You’re such an idiot, just shut up,” Andrew ordered as he reached up to give the back of Death’s neck a gentle squeeze, the heat of his hand sinking in through the thin material of Death’s shirt.

Confused as always by Andrew’s actions, Death hummed a little and was content to sit next to him in the dark, quiet park.

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, you get a little peek at Erik's people? Trying not to be all LOTR here, I think they're more like the middle men/women in the Named Ones 'world', they serve useful tasks (both the light and the dark). Tying in a bit at how in Sandman, some of the gods take on 'jobs' to survive in the modern world.
> 
> A little more info on Neil/Death, and how he fits into the whole Named One world, too. And a glimpse at Andrew's thought on Tilda/Aaron.
> 
> Anyway! Hope you enjoyed it. That was a lot of Andrew/Neil interaction, wasn't it?
> 
> And OMFG, some amazing artwork for the fic!  
> http://still-waiting-for-godot.tumblr.com/post/157769359129/youre-death-i-am-death-the-first  
> (I may have this on my phone now as my background)  
> http://bluetheking.tumblr.com/post/157712045162/so-nekojitachans-the-first-breaths-chapter  
> An AMAZING GIF!!! And a tarot card!!!!  
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated!  
> *******


	12. Death Doesn't do 'Social'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Wrath is back!  
> *******

*******

Wednesday started off… well, it wasn’t one of Andrew’s good days, but it wasn’t one of his truly bad days, either, so he forced himself to get out of bed and go get breakfast – coffee and an energy bar in the kitchen while Nicky flailed about trying to get ready and Bee shuffled about half-awake, something about a late night going over case files. He left the house on time with Nicky fussing over his hair the entire drive to campus, a huge grin on the pest’s face as he told Andrew that things were ‘fucking _fantastic_ ’ between him and Eric. Andrew grunted at that, and gave his cousin a flat look in return when Nicky tried to get some information on what was going on between him and Neil. After that, the pest got the hint and shut up.

The day before had been… it had been odd and unexpected and surprisingly low-key, had been Neil mostly going along with Andrew (taking him to the middle of nowhere in Germany had been a bit of a surprise), had been… it had been good, and that was… Andrew wasn’t used to _good_. Granted, he also wasn’t used to dating, if one wanted to call what he was doing with Neil that, but usually when he hung out with a guy he liked there was a lot more frustration and mixed signals and eventually _not_ good. While it was clear that Neil still was confused about a lot of things (about most things that didn’t have to do with his Named Ones’ shit), one thing he didn’t seem to have a problem with was respecting Andrew’s boundaries, with not crossing any lines. Hell, if anything he kept so damn far back from them that Andrew had to always ask ‘yes or no’, but he was at least assured of Neil’s interest in the sudden response, in the way Neil leaned in for the kisses and sighed in evident disappointment when they ended.

Yet Neil didn’t push for anything more, didn’t try to touch even when Andrew saw his fingers twitch and then curl up in an evident desire to do just that. Powerful being of death or whatever the hell he was, Neil appeared perfectly content to allow Andrew to lead in this _thing_ between them. Had sat there beside him and helped him with a research paper that Andrew had done everything but written it down (though the additional resources should get him some nice extra credit) and all but ignored the other gods and goddesses and beings of power around them despite _their_ interest (and awed fear) in the idiot.

Andrew thought about that, about their fourth kiss sometimes (okay, _most_ times – he really hated his memory) in Neil’s room before he’d left for the night, the feel of Neil’s hair between his fingers, the way Neil’s lips parted for him, the faint, needy moan that had slipped free at that moment…. He let out a sudden breath and forced himself to focus on his workout, on lifting the weights and the burn of exerting effort, of muscles flexing, and blocked out Neil until he was done in the gym.

But the idiot snuck back into his head as he stood in line at the campus café, as he watched some frazzled girl handle the multiple orders piling up and he felt a pang of disappointment over being unable to harass Neil until the next day. To see those icy blue eyes narrow in indignation and auburn eyebrows draw together as Neil struggled with that temper of his, the annoying mask of distance broken for the moment. Tormenting the idiot was almost as good as seeing his rare smiles.

Disgruntled by the thought, Andrew frowned as he wondered why he was so preoccupied by Neil that morning, and the young guy behind the cash register stuttered out a greeting to him and fumbled with the keyboard when Andrew gave him his order. Sighing over the fact that it seemed his fate to deal with morons, he paid for the drink and double chocolate scone, then texted his idiot while he waited for his order.

It took several minutes for Neil to reply back that he was in Budapest with his uncle. Andrew sent back a message with his condolences, and apparently Dan or Matt had explained emojis to the idiot since Andrew got a sad cat face one back a moment later. Uncertain if that was Neil agreeing with him or upset about the comment, Andrew put his phone away and found a table in one of the common areas where he could enjoy his snack while catching up on a little homework before his classes for the day.

He didn’t go out of his way to participate in classes, but he knew his shit whenever he got called on and he was prepared for any tests or quizzes, so things were fine. He still was uncertain about what he’d actually do with the degree, if he wanted to be an investigator or agent or… he didn’t know. It was one of the things he was still working on with Dr. Shahin – one of many things.

There was a text from Nicky letting Andrew know that Abby would be picking him up so not to bother coming back to campus after his session with the psychiatrist, which made Andrew wonder how much longer his cousin was going to be quiet about his magic lessons. Though to be fair, between Nicky hanging out with Erik and Andrew with Neil, the two of them hadn’t had too much ‘personal’ time together, something that Andrew really couldn’t complain about considering how annoying Nicky was at the best of times. The text also reminded him that he still needed to try casting wards at some point, but to do that he needed some time and a victim – somehow he didn’t think Bee would appreciate being blocked from a room in her own house, and he didn’t want to have the ‘I’m a demi-god’ conversation with her just yet.

It wasn’t that he thought she wouldn’t be supportive of him, not when she’d taken in a fucked-up, angry as hell kid several years ago and helped him deal with realizing that he was gay, that he had a twin brother out there and a mother who had willingly tossed him aside yet kept Aaron. Bee would probably sit there and take it all in, then nod after a few minutes as the new data helped to explain some of the crazy shit she’d had to deal with… it was just that he couldn’t figure out how to talk about everything and keep _Neil_ out of it.

Best to keep things quiet for a little longer.

Andrew made his way to his weekly appointment with Dr. Shahin, which he hadn’t been looking forward to since the last one. On the whole, the therapy sessions weren’t the highlight of his week, but he’d realized over the years how much they helped him. He just didn’t like the fact that it appeared that Dr. Shahin was keeping something from him, that she knew something about that night out in the forest, the night with the Fury.

That she had possibly been lying to Andrew all these years.

He still didn’t know what he was going to do with her, but for the time being he would continue the sessions while watching what he revealed to the woman. So he went into her office, just like always, and was a bit surprised to find her a little withdrawn, her demeanor cool as she greeted him. “How was your week?” She was dressed in a dark suit that day, her black hair pulled back in a bun and over-all, the air about her was closed-off; she even had glasses on, which she rarely wore.

“It was all right.” He sat in the chair and tugged on the left sleeve of his black t-shirt, which covered his arm band. “Much of the same stuff with work and class.”

She paused to write something down on her notepad and frowned. “That doesn’t sound very detailed. How are things with Mr. Wymack? Has there been any progress there? What about your classes? Do you still feel engaged in the course of study?”

“It’s still the same with Wymack, I don’t see how you expect that to change any time soon. He hasn’t been at the shop too much lately, and as long as he doesn’t get in my face, we’re fine,” Andrew insisted as he crossed his arms over his chest. “He likes to think that everyone will be all happy and a good boy as long as you pat them on the head and tell them they’re doing a great job, and I feel it’s _my_ job to point out how unrealistic that is.”

For a moment something like weariness flashed over Shahin’s face, and then it once more became an impassive mask. “Andrew… you don’t have to fight the entire world. Sometimes something as simple as an affirmation can help people better themselves.”

“Oh, look, another idealist,” Andrew drawled. “Maybe you should run a coffee shop full of rejects, too. Maybe then you and Wymack can get your employees to participate in some sort of sports league on the weekends, see if we don’t kill each other on a baseball field or something since we’ll have _affirmed_ all of our issues away.” Wouldn’t _that_ be so much fun?

Hmm, come to think about it, maybe some sort of therapy involving swinging a heavy stick might be interesting….

Nah, too much effort. He’d just stick to his knives.

Shahin sighed as she jotted something down. “Sarcasm isn’t the most effective of coping mechanisms, you do realize.”

“No, but it’s oh so satisfying – for me.”

“For you,” Dr. Shahin agreed. She flicked her pen about between her fingers as she stared at him, her eyes appearing gold behind the lens of her glasses, her gaze sharp on him. “While we’re on the topic of work… what about the new coworker you complained about last time? The ‘idiot’, you called him.” There was also a sharp bite to her voice, just then.

Was there something wrong with her eyes? Andrew frowned and sat up a bit more in the chair. “He’s still an idiot, that’s never going to change, and he’s still messing up the drinks.” All right, he wasn’t imagining it, her eyes were gold now, instead of their usual dark brown. “But I’m used to working with idiots,” he said with a shrug. “There was one at the campus café today, so nothing new. I should manage a 4.0 this semester,” he added in an attempt to switch the topic onto his studies – away from Neil.

“That’s not a very nice comment,” Dr. Shahin said as she set the notebook down on her lap. “And you’re deflecting. Why don’t you want to talk about your new coworker?” She cocked her head to the side. “Are you getting along with him? Is he _just_ a coworker?”

Andrew stared at her, at her strange eyes, at the way the sunlight seemed to fill the room all of a sudden and he felt the rage start to build inside of him, felt the familiar heat and tempestuous emotion coil inside of his chest like a beast snarling to break free. “Why do you care?” The question came out in a quiet, almost light tone of voice, yet Shahin flinched.

“It’s my job to ask questions,” she told him as she tapped the pen against the notebook. “To help you face things you might be unwilling to realize about yourself, to start a discussion about them. Why are you so quick to dismiss this coworker?”

“Why are _you_ so determined to talk about him? I complain about idiots all the time, and about the people I work with on a weekly basis.” Why was she so focused on Neil? Was it another thing she knew about that she shouldn’t?

Dr. Shahin was quiet for a moment, and then she shook her head. “You’re being very dismissive this week, very general, which implies that something is going on that you don’t want to talk about. I’m trying to figure out what it is.”

Not bad, but why would she assume it was about Neil, when things were very rarely about any one guy in Andrew’s life. Then he thought about that for a moment and almost shook his head – it was rarely about an idiot guy at work who got under his skin.

“Maybe I’m sick of being questioned about everything,” he said. “Of people not taking me at my word.”

She gazed at him for a couple of seconds before she blinked her eyes, and then they were their usual dark color once more before she glanced down at her notebook. “I apologize, since it wasn’t my intent to make you feel that way. I thought that there might have been something… well, it’s irrelevant now, and I don’t want to you to feel pressured or negative in any manner so it’s best we drop this subject.” She gave him a slight smile when she looked up. “You said that you’re doing well in with your classes?”

He gave a slight nod, the rage still burning potent inside of him; he didn’t trust that she had so easily ‘dropped’ the matter, not when she had been pushing it before, when he didn’t even know _why_ she had been pushing it. When she had wanted to know about _Neil_. The one thing he was certain about, though, was that he definitely didn’t trust her anymore… and he had to wonder if she was in some way associated with Neil. With Neil or Deception.

So he told her about his classes and his grades and they talked about general things after that, with him aware of her weighted gaze on him the entire time, and that roiling heat inside of him that wouldn’t go away as long as there was a potential threat against Neil seated in front of him.

*******

After spending some time in Budapest, Wrath accompanied Death as he went about ‘work’ – in some places both their duties intersected, as Wrath’s Aspect had pushed someone to end one or more lives; at times Death wondered if that was why his uncle could bear to stand by him so often, to see him with all masks stripped away, with no restraints on his true nature. If perhaps it had been destined after all, for him – for _Abram_ – to become Death in the end, considering that his father was Destruction. If there was one other being out there besides Wrath who could withstand Death’s true self, it was his father, after all, was someone who broke things down and apart.

For all that he dealt with endings, with bringing things to their inevitable conclusions, Death grew weary with the sense of inevitability to it all some days.

Perhaps that was why he led his uncle to the one hilltop, the sky filled with stars and a waning moon above the slowly eroding stone monoliths, an owl flying above them and a fox pausing a couple of meters away to give them a curious look. Wrath huffed a little once he recognized the place and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. “Can’t believe they turned the damn place into a bloody tourist trap.”

“They have little respect for the places of power,” Death said, in complete agreement with his uncle as he felt the energy thrum beneath his feet, as he let his own sink into the ground and flare out through the ley lines before soaking in the invigorating rush of it; no mortals would dare approach the mound or the stone circles while they were there… or for the next few nights, most likely. The place would get its appropriate respect, for a short while.

Wrath inhaled sharply on his cigarette then let out a plume of smoke only a shade or two paler than his eyes – eyes that reminded Death of his mother’s. “I remember when nothing had been here but trees,” Wrath muttered. “Trees and Fae, and fucking annoying pixies everywhere you looked.” Sadness colored his gruff, deep voice. “Your mother loved it here.”

Death bent down to pet the fox when it crept over for attention. “The Fae had mostly moved on when she brought me here, but there were still plenty of pixies.” He remembered the wooden structures and altars, remembered and cherished the few days they had sought sanctuary on the mound, their wards strengthened by the ley lines, before they had reluctantly moved on.

He came back here from time to time in remembrance of her, and had to wonder what she would make of the things that the mortals had done to the hill. If perhaps his father was finding some amusement in everything that happened here.

“The Fae knew what the hell they were doing, when they went off to the Summer Lands without a backwards glance. Bloody hell,” Wrath complained as he toed aside an empty beer bottle. “I don’t know what’s worse – the ones who treat the place like shit or the ones who think they’ve a damn clue what it’s about and who’ll probably raise a fucking horde of demon one of these nights.” Then he seemed to think about it and shrugged. “Eh, they’ll eat the stupid fools, so maybe that’ll be a good thing.”

Said the person who didn’t get stuck cleaning up after those hordes of demons, Death thought with some annoyance. “Twice already has been more than enough,” he reminded his uncle as he fished the wrapped pirozhki that Wrath had bought him back in Moscow out of the front pocket of his grey sweatshirt to feed the fox, which yipped in excitement then thanked him before taking the snack with a delicate bite from his hands. The vixen bowed her head again in thanks before running away, fluffy red and white tail held high in the air, while Wrath sighed and Death smiled.

“You could stand to put on a few kilos, kiddo,” Wrath grumbled. “It’s supposed to be a stupid misconception, you being a bag of bones.” He reached over to poke Death in the ribs, which made Death flinch.

It was an old, familiar complaint at that point, one Death mostly ignored. “I’ve been eating lately,” he assured his uncle. “Compassion and Courage have been insisting, and Andrew keeps making me eat with him.”

As always when he mentioned the demi-god, Wrath’s lips thinned, this time around the cigarette. “Andrew again.” He paused to flick ash to the ground and grunted. “Okay, I’m trying here, honest. But you’ve had a couple dozen gods, half the Vices, a few Muses and Diligence – what fucking irony is that – after you all these millennia, and that’s not even half the Named Ones I can mention.” He gave Death an even look while Death tried to make sense out of those words – they were spoken in a language he understood, but…..

“Eh?”

Wrath stared at him for a few more seconds and then sighed. “Oh for- don’t tell you that you didn’t realize that you’ve had all these people trying to get your attention!” he snapped. “Why do you think Tsukiyomi stutters so much around you? Or that Diligence hasn’t gotten along with Compassion in centuries? That Asdzą́ą́ Nádleehé’s always fussing over you?”

Death tugged on the hood of his sweatshirt as he thought about why everyone bothered with him. “Uhm, that they’re either afraid of me or trying to get me to like them so I help them out?”

Wrath muttered beneath his breath as he made to drop his cigarette to the ground, then thought better of it before vanishing it into thin air. “Some of them, yeah, but… oh, to hell with this.” He jerked his left hand through his hair. “There are days when I see so much of your mother in you, and days when you couldn’t be more different, you know,” he told Death in a quieter voice, his expression softened by an emotion that made his eyes shine with something bleak. “She would have recognized each and every one of those people wanting her, which… no, it wouldn’t be a good thing.” That bleakness turned into something dark. “Not a good thing at all.”

Death thought of his mother, of her strength and her sharpness, of her desperation and drive, her focus and fury. “I’m not her,” he agreed, even if there were times when he wished he was. When he feared he was too much like his father, instead.

“No, you’re not,” Wrath said as he reached out with his left hand to cup Death’s face. “You’re something better, kiddo.” The bleakness and darkness was gone from his grey eyes and voice, until the remaining softness was something that made Death’s chest ache. “As much as I loved her, you’re something better.” His rough, calloused thumb stroked along Death’s cheek. “But for the life of me, I just can’t figure out why you think a mouthy little demi-god like Andrew is a good idea,” he added, his expression changing into a displeased frown, “when you could have the Morrigan or Greed.”

Perhaps he’d pulled a little too much energy from the ley lines, Death thought to himself as he attempted to make sense out of it all. “But… but… I don’t _want_ them,” he tried to explain as he raised his right hand to cup his uncle’s, the touch warm and comforting and grounding despite everything; it was so rare that people touched him, that he allowed people to touch him, but it was his uncle.

“But you want that little pissant, Andrew?” Wrath asked, his tone one of pure disbelief.

“Yes.” Death gave a slight shrug and an even slighter smile. “It confuses me, too.” But he wanted Andrew.

Wrath stared at him for several seconds before sighing, his thumb once more stroking along Death’s cheek. “What the hell, at least your tastes are a _tiny_ bit better than your mother’s,” he grumbled. “Not much, but a miniscule bit better.” His hand dropped from Death’s face as he stepped back. “I’ll kick his fool ass if he hurts you.”

“Thank you, I think.” Death frowned as he considered the offer. “I can kick ass myself, you know.”

“No, that’s _my_ job,” Wrath insisted as he cracked his knuckles, his eyes a pure and glowing red. “The little sun-god wannabe fucks with you? _I_ fuck with _him_.”

Why was everything so complicated? “Uhm, _why_ do you get to fuck with him?” Death asked even if he was a bit concerned about the answer.

“Because,” his uncle said while he cracked the knuckles of his other hand, his eyes glowing even brighter.

“Of course,” Death sighed as he rubbed at his forehead. Never mind that he had lived however long and could look after himself…. “Thank you?”

Wrath’s expression softened once more. “You’re welcome, kiddo.” He reached out to pull Death in closer and draped his left arm over Death’s shoulders. “Now come on, let’s go get some kebabs before I drop you off at the flat.”

Death let his uncle pull them _between_ , still confused and a little disgruntled but smiling slightly from Wrath’s familiar concern.

*******

The taste of hot chocolate lingering in his mouth, Andrew slipped outside to have a cigarette before he went to his bedroom to study, Bee’s sleepy ‘good night’ fading as he slid the patio door closed behind him. He was in the process of shaking free a cigarette when he sensed… he sensed _something_ and smelt the familiar stench of clove cigarettes.

“Fucking hell,” he snarled as he dropped the unlit cigarette to the ground and whirled around to find Wrath leaning against the pole of the patio’s small roof; the Vice was dressed in a dark suit which helped him to blend into the shadows cast by the nighttime sky and the various outdoor lights of the neighboring houses, save for the red glow of his disgusting cigarette and his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“You learn fast, don’t you?” Wrath said, which didn’t answer Andrew’s question. The tip of his cigarette bobbed up and down as he spoke, until he reached for it and pulled it away from his mouth. “Not many can sense me, if I don’t want them to.”

“Gold star for me,” Andrew drawled as he picked up the dropped cigarette, mindful to keep his eyes on Neil’s uncle the entire time. “Now tell me why the hell you’re here, and you better not be causing trouble for anyone.” He felt the anger rush forth at the thought of Wrath affecting Bee or causing her any trouble with the neighbors, even if half of them were assholes.

Wrath scoffed as he flicked ash onto the ground. “Relax, I’m not here to pick a fight, just to talk.” He glanced over at the house for a moment. “You’ve got a basic set of wards on the place, nothing that’ll keep me or anyone in my league out, but someone’s trying to protect the place.”

Andrew frowned at that. “Did Neil do them?” Had the idiot put them up the other night?

The prick scoffed again, that time louder. “I said ‘basic’ – if the kiddo put them up then they’d be more than that, but he doesn’t live here and it would attract too much attention, him doing something like that.” Wrath eyed the building again, and when he looked away, his eyes returned to ‘normal’. “No, these weren’t done by a Named One, which is why I could have entered if I wanted. They feel old, too, and should be renewed soon.”

“I was going to try something,” Andrew admitted. “If you’re lurking around here, you can help me out.” He needed someone to practice on, and he’d feel a hell of a lot better knowing if he could block out someone like Wrath – or even better, Deception.

Wrath was quiet for a moment then shrugged. “Why the hell not? I help you with this, and you answer a couple of questions for me, got it?” His eyes flared bright red again, until Andrew nodded.

“Yes,” Andrew agreed, willing to humor the prick if it meant protecting Bee and even Nicky. He paused to light the cigarette and inhale deeply before he spoke again. “Neil said it’s a matter of willing the things into being.”

“A bit simplistic, but yeah, that should do.” Wrath dropped his own cigarette onto the patio and ground it out with the toe of what looked to be an expensive leather shoe. “But as a bit more to go on, focus on the shape of the house, of it as a whole, to give you something to ‘sink’ it into, as well as what you want it to do.”

That was a little more specific than what Neil had told him, so Andrew stood there with the rage burning inside of him, the familiar fire that had been part of him for so long, at first so punishing and mindless until he had been able to channel it toward protecting something – protecting _others_. He let it fill him, let it make him strong and then he thought about the house, about the small home that Bee had brought him to all those years ago, about the room she’d given him and how they’d gone out that very same day so he could pick out a lock which they’d installed on his bedroom door as soon as they returned home. The house where nothing bad had ever happened to him, where he’d finally learned to trust someone, to stop hoarding food, to relax, and then Nicky had come and the two of them had turned into three – another person to protect. Bee and Nicky, the only family Andrew acknowledged, and he didn’t want any Named Ones other than Neil to enter… well, Neil and Abby. Neil and Abby and Erik, he amended.

He focused on that image, on the thought of the fire inside of him engulfing the house not to burn it but to protect it, and after a few seconds he felt something rush out of him, felt a sudden dizziness the same time that Wrath grunted. “Huh, not bad for your first time, you little shit.” The Vice sounded impressed despite himself.

Andrew opened eyes he hadn’t known that he’d closed and thought he saw the house glow red for a moment, but as soon as he blinked, it was back to normal. “It worked?”

“I can feel the new wards, so I’d say ‘yes’.” Wrath took a step forward then stopped about two feet from the sliding door as if he’d run into an invisible wall, his face contorted into a grimace. “Fuck yeah, it worked.” He turned around to eye Andrew with a contemplative expression. "Full of surprises, aren't you?"

Andrew shrugged as he drew a long inhale of smoke. "Who wants to be bored?"

"Cheeky little shit," Wrath scoffed as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit's coat. "Go a couple of rounds with Deception and see how bored you are then."

"Speaking of the asshole, how do I get in touch with his big brother?" Andrew asked as he leaned against one of the posts. "Neil wasn't much help in that regard."

"I thought you were supposed to be telling _me_ shit, not the other way around," the prick reminded Andrew with an offended sniff; when Andrew gave him a flat look in return, Wrath met it with a similar expression. "Just how serious are you about my nephew?” When Andrew didn’t say anything, Wrath’s pale grey eyes narrowed while a spark of red danced in their depths. “You really think someone like you can stand up to Deception? To an immortal millennia old? I’m not even talking about the kid’s father, who would crush you like an insignificant insect, but a cowardly yaldson who has enough power and influence to make you wish you’d never been born.”

Andrew stared at the prick as he took one last inhale from the cigarette then ground it out in the flower pot. “Funny, because I’ve known a lot of people who did their best to make me wish just that during my life, and I’m still here.” He narrowed his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest, his fingers resting on top of his arm bands. “I don’t care how powerful Deception is, he’s not going to hurt Neil ever again.” The bastard was never going to cut him again or even lay a finger on the idiot, not while Andrew was around.

“Nice to see you have your kind’s madness in full spades there,” Wrath muttered, but his expression was bereft of the mocking attitude that colored his words. “So you wanna be a hero, that’s all well and good, but don’t give the kid too much hope,” the Vice warned him. “He counted on someone before, only to be let down.” Emotions flickered across his face – grief, rage and loss.

It didn’t take much thought to figure out who that ‘someone’ had been. “I’m not his mother,” Andrew reminded the prick. “I’m not bound by some stupid rules.”

That earned him another scoff as Wrath shook his head. “Shows you how much you know, you cocky little shit.” At Andrew’s frown, Wrath gave him a mirthless smile. “You start mucking about in _our_ world? Sooner or later those rules you just spat on will come around and bite you in the ass. You can’t plead ignorance of them forever, can’t say you’re not one of us when you start throwing about wards and taking on Named Ones.”

Hmm, that might prove a bit of an inconvenience, but Andrew would deal with things when and if they came about – right then he was focused on keeping Deception and Destruction away from Neil. “What happens, happens. I’m not letting them hurt Neil, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Wrath shook his head. “Such a bloody fool.” He rubbed his right hand over his face, and for a moment he looked… he appeared like something out of an old painting, a non-descript face hovering in the darkness with pallid skin and fiery eyes, something so inhuman and primordial that it couldn’t be fully defined. Then he was back to appearing like a weary middle-aged man. “ _She_ thought she could face them, that she could keep him safe, and it cost her everything.” Wrath’s eyes flared brighter than fire as he scowled at Andrew. “It cost _him_ a lot, too. Do you know long I had to chase after him, once he took on that Aspect? Had to keep dragging him back to places where the three of us had any good memories, had to force him to take a fucking break, had to… had to make him remember that he’d been Abram once? All because of what those _fuckers_ had done to him.”

Andrew gave a slight nod as he felt the rage burn through to the core of his bones. “I’ve seen him, when he gives in to it. I’ve seen his scars. They’re not going to harm him again.” He wasn’t a child anymore, wasn’t weak and helpless and forced to endure. No, now he had his knives and his strength, and now he wasn’t going to let _anyone_ or _anything_ harm what he considered _his_ , what he’d sworn to protect.

Never again.

Wrath eyed him for a few seconds then nodded. “All right then, maybe you do have what it takes to keep the kid safe.”

“There’s no ‘maybe’ to it,” Andrew insisted. “Now-“

Behind him, there was the flash of brightness as someone turned on the light in the kitchen, which made Andrew curse as he spun around; a moment later, Nicky slid open the patio door. “Andrew? You’re still out here?” He squinted into the darkness. “Are you talking to someone?”

Andrew could sense that Wrath was gone and so didn’t bother to look for the prick – _dammit_ , he hadn’t been able to get an answer about Pride. “Just shooing away a cat,” he lied.

“Okay.” Nicky smiled at him. “If it’s a stray, you could probably take it to Neil as a present.”

“Funny.” Andrew gave his cousin a narrow look at that. “He already has too many.”

“Hmm, true.” Nicky stepped away from the door so Andrew could enter the house.

“You just get back?”

“Yeah, Erik was with a client tonight so I was hanging out with Abby.” A sly grin came over Nicky’s face as he combed his fingers through his hair. “I’m having fun, learning some simple spells and stuff from her.”

‘Simple’, eh? Somehow Andrew doubted that, but at the moment he was pleased to see that Nicky had been able to enter the house despite his wards. “That’s all it is, just simple spells?”

Nicky gave a nervous laugh as he headed toward his bedroom. “Yeah, a few potions and things like that.” He waved his right hand about in the air, and Andrew caught how his eyes darted about as he lied.

So, someone didn’t want to admit the truth just then, but Andrew let the matter drop since he needed to read a couple of chapters before going to bed – that and text Neil to make sure that his idiot wasn’t doing something stupid.

Tomorrow would be soon enough for more answers.

*******

Death sat on one of the windowsills in his room with the grey cat in his lap when he felt a pulse of power, and sighed as he twisted about to find Charity standing on the fire escape. " _Why_?" he asked as he frowned at the Virtue, who had a bright smile on his face.

"You're really living here?" Charity asked while ignoring the question, which wasn't much of a surprise - the Virtue, as always, was curious and enthused and... and... and _wearying_. Compassion was enough to bear at times with his cheerfulness and willingness to try new things, but Charity was just too much. "This is fantastic! I love it!" He grinned and made as if to pet the cat, which caused her back up against Death's chest and hiss while Charity's hand hit the ward. "Oh, sorry about that," he apologized with a sheepish grin. "A bit rude, no?"

"Why are you here?" Death elaborated. "I'm sure they have need of you somewhere else, such as San Paulo or London or St. Petersburg." All places far away.

"But you're here," Charity explained as he leaned against the metal railing, his arms folded over his chest, which was adorned with a faded red t-shirt bearing some slogan in gold, his long legs clad in torn jeans. "I wanted to talk to you."

Death nodded at that. "I don't want to talk to you, go away." He got up from the windowsill with the cat cradled in his arms and went to leave the bedroom.

"Aw, why are you always like this?" Charity called out. "It's about Temperance!"

Death paused at that and sighed; after sharing a look with the cat, he set her down so she could go eat and turned back around. "I still don't want to talk to you," he admitted as he leaned against the window's frame. "Make this quick." He had to be at work soon.

"You...." Charity huffed in obvious annoyance as he ran his fingers through his thick blond hair, sparks of gold glowing in his blue eyes. "Obviously I was wrong in hoping that you living here meant that you were giving the whole 'social' thing a try, but work with me a little, okay?"

"Why?" Death repeated, because if he was going to be put out by this whole 'conversation' thing, so was someone else.

Charity paused for a moment, as if counting or something. "Temperance," he ground out as he dropped his hands to grip at the railing beside his hips. "He's acting rather odd, don't you think?"

"If by 'odd' you mean that he's stalking me, then yes," Death conceded.

The Virtue smiled again, but there was a distinct edge to it that time. "Why yes, I do consider that _odd_." He muttered something beneath his breath for a moment. "Any particular reason for that, or for him all but running from me, another Virtue, when I try to talk to him?"

This was taking too much time, when Death had to change his clothes and leave for the Laughing Fox. "I would assume that it has to do with him working with Deception to bind me to the _apenaaier_ ," he admitted. "Now why don't you go bother them?" That said, he extended the wards to include the fire escape, which made Charity cry out in protest while he turned away to get ready for 'work'.

After changing into a black hooded t-shirt with a short sleeved one bearing the coffee shop's logo layered over it and black jeans, Death left his room to find Compassion waiting for him in the living room. "Uhm, that was Charity a few minutes ago, wasn't it?" his friend asked, his expression shifting from curiosity to bemusement as he stared at Death. "And wow, you're going old school today."

Death sighed as he pulled the hood over his head. "I was in a hurry because of Charity’s nattering, and your insistence on me wearing human clothes means they get wrinkled and dirty. When is one of Hestia's people coming to pick up the laundry?"

Now Compassion appeared excited and seemed to forget all about his fellow Virtue. "Ah, about that," he said as they left the apartment. "There's these machines where you put the clothes in, and they clean them!" He beamed at Death, who swore to himself that he'd ask Courage about the devices - he could already foresee how things would turn out if Compassion was left in charge of the endeavor.

"How is it that you weren’t considered for Chaos?" he asked as he forced himself to climb into the monstrous truck so he could endure another drive to the Laughing Fox.

"Hey!" Compassion complained before he seemed to think about the question. "Huh, you think I would be good at that?" At Death's flat stare, he smiled. "Nah, I'm fine as I am, don't you think?"

Death sighed as he gave his friend a slight smile in return. "You do seem to manage it with some degree of adequacy."

Compassion let go of the steering wheel with his right hand so he could tousle Death's hair. "Very funny, Morty." When several cars blasted their horns over the truck drifting about in its lane, he quickly forced it back into a more or less straight direction. "So, what did Charity want?"

Ah, they were back to _that_ topic; Death shrugged as he tugged his hood back in place. "He was curious about Temperance."

"Huh." Compassion seemed to focus on driving long enough to get them to the coffee shop without too many more horn blasts. "Well, he usually keeps an eye on all of us, wants to make sure we're doing all right and things like that." He chewed on his bottom lip as they climbed down into the parking lot. “Plus, I think he has a soft spot for Temperance,” he told Death, who blinked at that statement. “He’s always trying to get the guy to lighten up and go out for drinks.”

Death had a sudden rush of sympathy for the poor Virtue. “How unfortunate.”

“Ha, ha.” Compassion frowned at him as they headed into the coffee shop. “Some people _enjoy_ socializing, you- oh, _wow_.” His brown eyes widened as he must have sensed the same thing that Death did – the new wards around the Laughing Fox. “What the hell?”

Judging from the rush of warmth that Death felt just then as he approached the Laughing Fox, the pressing sense of ‘safety’… he would say that Andrew had figured out how to cast wards since they had last seen each other. A suspicion which was confirmed when he spotted the demi-god leaning near the door, his handsome face impassive but a hint of satisfaction in his almost golden eyes.

“About time that you showed up,” Andrew called out to them.

“Fuck a satyr, Andrew, did you-“ Compassion caught himself in time and gave a nervous laugh as he rubbed at the back of his head. “Uhm, good job?”

Death nodded in approval at his friend then approached the door to see if he could cross the threshold, and smiled when he was able to step through the portal. “I debated paying you back for that one time, but I’m not petty like some people,” Andrew said as he followed Death into the shop.

“Truly?” Death asked while glancing behind him, and caught the sparks of red in his friend’s eyes. “That is surprising.”

“Oh, someone is really going to suck at making drinks tonight,” Andrew informed him as his fingers yanked down Death’s hood.

“I thought you said you weren’t petty,” Death complained with a faint scowl as he tugged his hood back in place – only for it to be pulled back down again.

“I’m not petty,” Andrew insisted as he kept hold of the hood. “I’m prescient.”

“You’re preposterous,” Death snapped as he tried to yank his hood free, only for Andrew to be proven to be stronger; beside him, Compassion merely stood there and snickered, the traitor. “Let go.”

“No,” Andrew told him, his expression still blank but eyes glowing.

Taken back at being denied so flatly, Death blinked and attempted to cock his head to the side, but was trapped by the hold on his shirt. He’d just opened his mouth to say something when a loud voice startled him and made Andrew sigh.

“What the _fuck_ is going on here?”

Janus stood in the doorway of his own abode, dark eyes narrowed in anger and muscular arms folded across his chest, the flame tattoos moving about as if real. Several of the human customers paused their conversations to stare at the god, while Mario and Jocelyn gaped in surprise at their employer – Death assumed they didn’t notice the tattoos or the aura of power around the god, but Andrew certainly did, enough so that he let go of Death’s hood.

“Exactly,” Andrew said as he shoved himself in front of Death. “He’s another Named One, too?” The question was asked in a low voice.

“Not… exactly,” Death explained. “Uhm, pl- let him through the wards,” he murmured to his friend, while Janus took to glaring at the two of them. Andrew remained tense in front of him for a moment, and then he let out a slow, deep breath before Janus came tumbling into the shop.

“You own me an explanation,” Andrew muttered as he leaned back against Death.

“I told you, I dislike revealing other people’s secrets,” Death managed to say before Janus stomped over to them; Compassion took one look at the god and seemed to decide it was in his best interest to clock in or something.

“What the fuck?” Janus repeated, this time in a quieter voice since the customers were still watching. “How did you know to do that thing with the door?” he demanded from Andrew.

“Does he really think I’m that clueless?” Andrew asked as he glanced back at Death, which made Janus curse some more, that time beneath his breath.

Death gave a slight shrug. “Well, you were until recently.” He stared down the god when Janus’ expression turned accusatory. “He’s learned a few things.”

“A _few_?” Janus gawked at them for a moment before he swiped his right hand over his face. “I don’t- this isn’t the time for this, dammit.” Then he glared at Andrew. “You don’t block me from my own damn place, got it? Do it again and I’ll have you cleaning the stock room for a few weeks.”

Andrew rolled his eyes at that even as he nodded. “Fine. Didn’t know I had to take you into account,” he said as he grabbed onto Death’s hood again and began to pull him away. “Now come on, it’s about time for you to start sucking.” At Janus’ garbled cry of Andrew’s name, the demi-god sighed. “Sucking at making drinks, you old pervert,” he clarified in a rather disgusted tone. “What is he, Lust?” Andrew asked as he hauled Death away.

“No, he’s…. later.” Death eyed Jocelyn, who skittered out of their way and did some sighing of his own. “I can walk by myself,” he declared as he batted at Andrew’s left hand.

“This way I know where you are,” Andrew argued as they entered the back room with the lockers; Compassion was talking to Nicky, who had his phone in his hand and waved to Death. “I’ll be sure to get a leash to go with that collar.”

Nicky gasped at that declaration. “Oh my god! Barely dating and already into the BDSM stuff? Erik and I really have to up our game!” He smirked at his cousin, while Death reached out to give a tentative tug on Andrew’s left sleeve.

“Ah, Nicky? I believe it would be best for you to leave,” Death warned the witch, whose life expectancy had just taken a rather dubious turn for the worst.

“Eh?” Nicky gave Death a puzzled look for a moment, and then seemed to notice that Andrew was stroking his fingers along at the edge of his left arm band. “Oh _shit_.” Nicky certainly could move fast when he wanted.

“I’m gonna go help him with any customers,” Compassion said as he gave Death a slight wink before he sauntered out of the room. Alone with Andrew, Death sighed and let go of his friend’s sleeve.

“What is your fascination about collars?”

Andrew’s expression turned from murderous to contemplative as he regarded Death. He reached out to pull Death in close by the front of his shirts, until Death could feel warm breath against his skin when Andrew spoke. “Maybe you’ll find out soon,” Andrew said, while Death’s heartbeat raced and he stuttered to breathe. Then the bastard let go and walked away.

Such a petty, larcenous churl, Death thought to himself as he followed, happy despite all sense of logic about spending the next few hours working beside the ill-mannered demi-god.

*******

“Oops, wrong _again_ ,” Andrew told Neil as he grabbed the double mocha soy latte and inwardly smirked at the narrowed look he got in return; if Neil refused to tell him what exactly Wymack was, then Andrew was going to annoy the fuck out of him. Someone needed to learn that Andrew wasn’t to be questioned when it came to matters like these… that and Andrew just enjoyed messing with Neil, he’d come to realize. In provoking his friend into a show of temper, of _emotion_ , when almost everyone else was terrified of the idiot.

Neil watched him as he had a sip, his apparent anger giving way to exasperation. “Do you even like half of the drinks you steal?” he asked as he started on another soy latte.

“They’re free,” Andrew explained between sips, which was good enough for him. He didn’t have to pay for them, there was one hell of an amusement factor, and he grabbed the ones with a high sugar content, so it all worked out. “Speaking of free, Nicky’s going out with Erik after work so you can buy me dinner.”

That statement wrung a long sigh from Neil, but he didn’t say ‘no’. “Are we having pizza again?”

Andrew thought about it for a moment. “Maybe something spicy. Those empanadas you got the one night were good.” He’d handled the return trip back to Oakland all right, so it seemed that the more he went ‘between’ with Neil, the more he got used to it. Should be interesting to see where they ended up for dinner later.

Finished with the drink, Neil gave Andrew one of his tentative smiles before he went to place the order down on the counter; they should be getting their late afternoon rush soon, which would help kill the last hour or so of their shift.

“How did your professor like your paper?”

Andrew was a little surprised that Neil was asking about such an… innocuous thing, considering everything else happening with them, but he supposed the idiot was being mindful of Nicky lounging several feet away and everyone else in the shop. He was about to give a sarcastic reply when he realized that Neil probably had no idea about university life – at least, not first hand. Just how much did he ‘absorb’ through a person’s memories? Probably not much, going from what Andrew had seen.  “I’ll find out next week, we just turned them in today,” Andrew explained. “It takes a while for the professors – or half the time, their teaching assistants – to read and grade them.”

“Ah.” Neil gnawed on his full bottom lip as he considered that; Andrew stared while he finished his drink and did his best to fight the impulse to kiss the idiot, to gently cup Neil’s face between his hands and nibble on that lip himself. “Yes, that would make sense.”

“I’m sure it’ll get a good grade.” Andrew had found enough sources for the damn thing _before_ Neil had helped him out, so all the Russian stuff was just extra credit. Still, Neil smiled as if pleased, which left Andrew wishing that the damn shift was over already. “I’ll be sure to-“

“Uhm, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Neil’s smile faded at the sound of Compassion’s anxious voice, and Andrew turned around to see the tall Virtue gesturing in rapid, jerky motions while standing near Nicky, who was pouring something out of a blue thermos into the sample cups they used now and then when they had a new drink. Puzzled by what the hell his cousin was doing, Andrew threw the empty cup into the trash and went up to the front counter, with Neil trailing behind him.

They weren’t the only curious ones in the shop, since Wymack had come out from his office as well. “Since when do we have a new drink?” he asked, his voice gruff but expression mild; it looked as if he’d calmed down from the whole ward thing.

Nicky gave a laugh that was just a little higher-pitched than normal, which put Andrew on instant alert – the pest was up to something. “Oh, it’s a new tea that I brewed, a blend that I think will be a big hit.” His smile was a little too bright, his eyes a bit too wide, and Andrew caught the way that Wymack and Neil shared a glance between them, how Neil did that terrible stillness of his (did he even _breathe_? Andrew didn’t think so) while Wymack gave the slightest shakes of his head.

“Well then, on your head will it be,” Wymack said, which sounded rather odd. Matt drew in a sharp breath while Neil finally stirred, his fingers twitched before they reached up to tug on his hood.

Nicky gave another semi-nervous laugh as he continued filling the sample cups. “Great! I can’t wait to see how everyone reacts – I mean, how much they love it!” He smiled as he set the thermos down and looked over at Andrew. “You want to try one?”

Before Andrew could answer, Neil did. “ _No_.” There was a distinct chill in the air as Neil latched on to Andrew’s right sleeve and tugged him away while Nicky flinched and Matt gave a nervous chuckle. “He’s had enough to drink,” Neil added, his voice almost human that time.

“Ah, okay.” Nicky stared at Neil in confusion before Matt distracted him by fussing with the cups. “How about you?” he asked the Virtue.

Matt said something about being allergic, but Andrew wasn’t paying attention to what as it was his turn to be pulled away, back to the espresso machines by a blank-faced Neil. “Subtle much?”

Neil just shook his head as he let go of Andrew’s shirt. “I… that….” He gave up trying to explain and shook his head again, his hood falling back onto his shoulders and bangs sliding into his eyes. “You should not do that.” His hand hovered in front of Andrew’s chest but didn’t touch.

“Then why is Wymack letting him get away with it?” Andrew hesitated for a moment before reaching out to grasp Neil’s hand; it was colder than his own and the skin smooth, lacking the couple of callouses that Andrew’s possessed.

Neil’s breath hitched and his eyes grew bright behind the strands of his hair, and a slight flush came over his cheeks as his lips curled in that damn tremulous smile which made Andrew’s chest feel too damn small all of a sudden. “Wymack? Ah, yes.” He glanced over at the counter, where a customer was picking up a sample, then back at Andrew. “I suspect because Abigail told him to let it be, to see how far Nicky would go. It shouldn’t be anything too bad, not if she knows about it and warned Wymack, but….” His fingers curled around Andrew’s. “I believe this is what you would call a ‘learning experience’.”

Andrew thought back to what Neil had told him the other day, about Nicky and magic. “You said that there’s consequences involved with what he’s learning.” He frowned when Neil nodded, because even if his cousin was a pest and a moron, he couldn’t stand by and do nothing if Nicky was-

“ _Don’t_ ,” Neil said, as if reading his thoughts. “If Abigail is allowing it to happen, it won’t be bad,” he assured Andrew. “But Nicky needs to learn a lesson. He needs to know that he can’t, well, do what he’s doing now.”

“What, spike their drinks?”

“’Do as thou wilt, as it harms none’,” Neil told him. “There’s a reason for that saying, though it’s more ‘do as you will, as long as you can pay the price’.” His smile took on a sardonic edge. “Not quite as poetic, is it? Or a nice, pat warning. Some can pay the price, most can’t, and now your cousin is about to learn that even little things can cost.”

Of course things weren’t simple when it came to magic and Named Ones’ shit, Andrew thought as he gave Neil’s hand a gentle squeeze then let go so the idiot could make a drink, and settled next to him against the counter so he could watch the show on the other side of the shop. “If it’s not so bad, then why not let me try the tea?”

Neil sighed. “Because it’s still a spell,” he mumbled.

Aw, was someone trying to protect him? How adorably stupid. “I’m protecting _you_ , not the other way around,” he reminded the idiot as he tugged on an auburn curl.

That earned him a perplexed look. "Why does the one negate the other?"

"Because I say so," Andrew insisted. "My job is to protect you, your job is to pet cats and fail at being a barista, along with that other thing you do."

Neil stared at him for several seconds before he resumed steaming the milk. "The list of beings whom I believe I've offended keeps growing longer all of the time."

Andrew nodded in understanding. "Yes, people really don't like idiots."

"Perhaps you should go drink all of Nicky's special tea after all," Neil told him, sparks of silver bright in his eyes.

"Can't, I'm stuck with saving people from _your_ awful concoctions - oh, look, there's another one." Andrew snatched at the just finished flat white and grabbed some chocolate syrup to add to it while Neil made an adorable whining sound.

It was probably all of the caffeine that made him want to smile just then. Probably.

The orders started to come in, which kept Neil busy while Andrew watched over him and enjoyed a couple of brownies, and the customers were quick to snatch up Nicky's 'special' tea. They all seemed to like it and take the time to try to guess the ingredients, while Nicky laughed and chatted with them and Matt stood there with a strained smile. As far as Andrew could tell, nothing bad was happening to the customers, they seemed to be in a good mood after they drank it and more prone to chat with each other, so the shop was busy and loud.

"What do you think it is?" Andrew asked as Neil cleaned the one espresso machine during a lull in orders.

Neil did that lip nibbling thing since his hands were busy, his eyes vacant for a moment, then shrugged both shoulders. "Perhaps a good luck spell or a love spell of some kind? I would need to taste it to know for sure." Which he seemed reluctant to do.

"That doesn't sound too bad." Andrew looked out at the busy front room and noticed that Wymack was watching from the hallway leading to the office, his expression guarded. "Why is everyone so worried?"

"Because Nicky gave it to them without their consent," Neil explained. "He took it upon himself to do this, for his own amusement."

Something flared up inside of Andrew upon hearing those words, and suddenly it didn't seem remotely amusing, what Nicky had done. "I see." He gazed upon his smiling cousin as his hands clenched into fists. "So this is a lesson for him?" No wonder Abby had told Wymack to let it happen.

Neil must have picked up on how his mood had changed because he'd gone still again. "Yes," was all the idiot said, his voice quiet and head bowed.

"Good." Then Andrew reached over to tug on Neil's hood. "You can help me practice with some stuff on our day off this Sunday."

That provoked another weary sigh from the idiot, and made him look up as well. "Do I have any say about my days off from this place?"

"No," Andrew informed him, his tone making it clear that there would be no arguing.

"Of course." Yet Neil smiled as he finished cleaning up then began to restock.

The samples were long gone, but everyone continued to chat and laugh and hang around the shop for an hour or two afterwards, while Nicky smiled and watched them from his spot behind the counter. However, about half an hour before the end of their shift, he began to start scratching at his arms, his smile faltering a little as the ailment didn't appear to go away.

Andrew arched an eyebrow at Neil, whose lips merely thinned out by way of an answer.

Nicky lasted about another fifteen minutes or so before he ran off, startling a customer who had just paid for her drink. Once the woman walked off with her chai tea, Matt wandered over toward Andrew and Neil. "Well that wasn't fun," he said, his usual cheerful air distinctly lacking for once. Then he managed a lopsided smile. "Though we made a killing in tips."

"That may not help with the backlash," Neil pointed out as he tugged on his hood. "Besides, we don't get paid."

"Oh, right." Matt deflated once again.

"Wait, you don't?" Andrew scowled at Neil. "Wymack's not paying you?" What the fuck?

Neil shrugged as he let go of his hood, his expression a little surprised at something. "Uhm, no? He is willing to let us into his shop and all." Neil gestured at himself, so Andrew took it to mean that Wymack might have an issue with the idiot - that he knew what Neil was. How interesting. Oh yes, someone had just signed himself up to pay for a lot more dinners.

And the next time Wymack bitched about Andrew eating any extra snacks? Oh, now Andrew had something to throw back into the old man's face, how wonderful.

Still, it left the question of why Neil was putting up with all of this, with Andrew, for nothing. To come in several days a week to have Andrew harass him and... all right, back to Nicky, Andrew told himself as that tight feeling in his chest returned. "The itching was a backlash?"

"Yes," Neil said as he peeked at Andrew through his thick lashes and the edge of his hood, his head bent down and shoulders slumped as if uncertain about something.

"Considering how much effort he puts in his appearance, the magic probably latched onto that as a punishment," Matt elaborated. Then he thought of something. "Wait, isn't Erik coming to pick him up for a date? He was going on about that earlier."

Andrew gave him a flat look. "So?"

Matt winced. "Oh, this is going to be fun." He looked over at Neil, who didn't do anything. "The empathy right now is just off the scales, you two."

"That's your department," Neil said. "He's still breathing so I don't care."

Now Matt was gaping at his friend while Andrew hated to say that he was slightly impressed by the idiot's nonchalance. "You...." Then Matt squinted at Andrew. "I don't know if you're a good influence on him or not." His eyes widened when Andrew flipped him off. "Huh." He pulled out his phone from a back pocket of his jeans and started texting while he returned to the register.

"So, dinner," Andrew said after a few seconds of quiet. "Tapas?" He'd liked them the one time Bee had dragged him out to 'try something new', and had a feeling that Neil would take him someplace better than a restaurant in some strip mall.

Neil appeared to think of something for a moment. "Barcelona?"

That sounded acceptable, Andrew nodded; it would be late when they got there, he imagined, but Neil wouldn't suggest it unless he knew somewhere they could eat.

Right around when Neil had finished stocking everything for the closing shift, Wymack came back out as if to check everything and noticed that Nicky wasn't around. "How bad is it?" he asked Matt.

"Eh, he's been hiding in the bathroom for over ten minutes," Matt answered, busy wiping down the front counter.

"Hmm." Wymack's expression turned thoughtful as he typed something on his phone - Andrew assumed it was to Abby. "Let's hope he's not as stubborn as some people I could name and this is the last time he pulls something this stupid." He glanced up to look over at Andrew, and grunted when he was given the finger in return.

It was then that Erik came into the Laughing Fox, dressed in a nice suit and with a big grin on his face, and Andrew couldn't help but study the light elf, to see if he could spot Erik's true nature beneath the glamour; he thought he caught a glimpse of light emanating from the elf's blond hair, noticed a slight sheen to his skin that may or may not be his imagination.

Erik's smile wavered a little as he glanced around, and then he came over to lean against the counter as he looked at Neil. "Where is Nicky?"

Neil sighed as he went to tug at his hood, but settled for wrapping his arms around himself instead. "He's in the bathroom. He's... not feeling well right now."

Erik appeared worried to hear that. "Ah. All right." He nodded once and then left, presumably to go after the pest.

"This should be interesting," Andrew murmured as he stood beside Neil.

"That's... one way to put it," Neil agreed, while Matt shook his head and Wymack resumed texting. It was time for them to clock out - Chris, Toby and Sonja were there for their shift, but none of them were interested in leaving until Erik dragged Nicky out of the bathroom.

They waited almost five minutes before it happened, with Nicky a teary mess, his face covered in bright red hives, Erik's suit jacket draped over his head and arm wrapped around his shoulder while the elf murmured reassurances to him. He paused upon seeing Wymack standing out by the counter, along with Andrew, Matt and Neil, and hunched forward a little more.

"Hemmick," Wymack called out to him while pulling what looked to be a small wrapped pack of something from his front left jean pocket. "Abby said to drink this, it should help."

Nicky's bloodshot and watery eyes went wide, while Erik nodded in what appeared to be approval and accepted the wrapped pack from Wymack. "Thank you, I'll be sure that he drinks it."

"She also wants to talk to you tomorrow," Wymack warned the pest. "Have fun with that." Judging from the wry twist of his lips just then, he was more than a little familiar in dealing with his girlfriend when she was in a lecturing mood.

"Uhm, all right." Nicky nodded once then pressed against Erik's side as he draped the coat a little more over his face, then let Erik steer him out of the coffee shop.

Wymack watched them leave, then turned to find Andrew giving him a pointed look. "What now, you little demon?"

Andrew summoned a sharp smile for his boss. "Feel like talking yourself? Because someone," he slowly draped his left arm around Neil’s waist as he spoke, which made the idiot go stiff at first and then relax after a couple of heartbeats, "hasn't said a word on a certain topic."

Toby stared at them in confusion while Matt grinned, Sonja and Chris seemed to do their best to ignore Neil's existence and Wymack eventually sighed. "Come into the office," the man eventually said as he combed his fingers through his grizzled hair. "Might as well get this over with now."

"That's the spirit," Andrew encouraged his boss as he pulled Neil along with him; it looked as if dinner was going to have to wait a little longer.

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, the truth seems to be coming out on a couple fronts, doesn't it? Interesting.
> 
> I am trying to work on other things - will see about getting something new posted. Either a new part of the Dragon!Andrew fic or the long delayed Necromancer Andrew urban fantasy story....
> 
> As always, the comments and kudos are appreciated.  
> *******


	13. Death Lets Go a Little

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! I think we're getting closer to the end here, at least past the halfway point. Though this is the first story, with a second one coming. 
> 
> Think you'll be happy with some of the people showing up in this chapter (no one new, but I had some fun).  
> *******

*******

Andrew followed Wymack back to his office with his arm still draped around Neil’s waist; the idiot didn’t try to pull away or seem bothered by the contact, though Wymack gave Andrew a pointed look once they were in the cluttered room filled with various filing cabinets and a desk covered with stacks of papers and folders, a battered laptop and a few mugs bearing the shop’s fox logo.

“You _do_ know he’s not a kid, right?” Wymack asked Andrew as he sat down in his old, battered leather chair.

“I know he’s not a teenager, but I’ve been told he’s not that ‘old’, compared to some of you,” Andrew shot back as he leaned against a bit of wall across from the desk with Neil next to him.

Wymack grunted at the answer and nodded. “That’s more or less true, but he’s still old as hell and powerful as fuck.” For a moment he stared at Neil and shuddered a little, which made Andrew’s eyes narrow and his left hand curl tighter around Neil’s hip.

“I’m right here,” Neil reminded the two of them. “And I seem to remember you with several young women in Cairo, back in-“

“Fuck, but I don’t need a reminder!” Wymack said in a rush, a distinct flush to his cheeks. “But that wasn’t too long after Andraste and….” He fell quiet and reached into his desk for what turned out to be a bottle of whiskey, which he poured into one of the empty mugs. “Right, so what do you expect?”

“You not to judge,” Neil said in a quiet voice. “But that’s not why we’re here, I believe.”

“No,” Wymack admitted after he appeared to drain the mug dry with a couple of swallows, while Andrew made a mental note of the fact that his boss kept some whiskey stashed in the one bottom right drawer. “We’re here because the little demon just _had_ to find out the truth, didn’t he?” He scowled at Andrew as he refilled the mug.

Oh, things were about to get fun, weren’t they? Andrew gave Neil’s hip another squeeze before he let go and stepped forward to snatch away the bottle of alcohol, Wymack’s reflexes too slow to stop him. “You knew the truth about me?” he asked in a deceptively even tone of voice.

He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised since Wymack had known him for several years, and watched as the man or whatever flushed again. “I can spot one of your kind from half a mile away, of course I knew.” Then Wymack let out a slow breath and drank the rest of his whiskey while eyeing the bottle in Andrew’s hands, now that Andrew had returned to Neil’s side. “But what was I supposed to say, hmm?” he asked when the empty mug was set back on the desk. “’Hey, kid, this is going to sound strange but do you believe in gods? Because you’re part one’.” He rolled his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, it goes over real well, I can tell you.”

Andrew paused to have some whiskey before he deigned to answer. “So you were going to just… what? Say nothing? Do nothing?” Did he know about the Fury?

Wymack sighed as he dug through his drawer again and pulled out another half-empty bottle of whiskey. “As long as no weird shit happened? Sure.” He gave Andrew a pitying look before he emptied the bottle in his mug. “Trust me, it’s usually better that way, but it figures that it wouldn’t be that way for _you_. You got too much of your grandfather in you, prick that he is.”

“That’s what I hear.” Andrew had another couple of swallows of the whiskey, which wasn’t half bad. “So who are you, eh?”

“You really didn’t tell him?” the grouchy bastard asked Neil, who merely shook his head. “Huh.” Wymack once more sank back into his chair and was quiet for about a minute. “I’m a god, too,” he admitted with evident reluctance, his expression guarded.

No, really? Andrew sighed since he just wanted to go have some damn tapas. “Which one? God of annoyances or lost causes or something?”

Wymack huffed while Neil stirred next to Andrew. “You’re close, you shitty dwarf.” There was a spark of light in Wymack’s dark eyes just then as he leaned his tattooed arms on his desk. “I’m Janus, and no, I don’t have two faces.” He grimaced while he shook his head. “Stupid drunk artists, swear they make up shit and we’re stuck with it forever.” He nodded toward Neil. “Like him being a skeleton.”

“It’s not too bad,” Neil murmured. “Though I won’t tolerate Thor’s ‘boner’ jokes.”

For some reason, Wymack – oh, wait, _Janus_ – winced at that. “For fuck’s sake, you stabbed him with his own dagger!”

“It slipped.” There was a defiant look to Neil’s face just then. “And he’s… durable. Loki complains about that fact all the time.”

“Nice,” Andrew said as he gave the idiot a nod of approval.

“No, _not_ nice,” Wymack sputtered. “Don’t encourage him!”

“But the guy deserves it, he sounds like an asshole,” Andrew argued. Actually, most of the gods sounded like assholes.

“Well, he is, but-“ Wymack shook his head while he grabbed his mug and frowned when he realized it was empty of whiskey. “Look, so you know about me, and it’s clear you already know about yourself and ‘Neil’ over there. I take it that you found out about Abby, too?”

Andrew shrugged as he finished off the alcohol while Wymack watched on with evident envy. “She’s been around for a while, uses magic but not like I’ve heard about it. He,” Andrew motioned to Neil, who was tugging on his hood, “only told me because of Nicky.”

“Figures,” Wymack muttered. “She’ll probably want to talk to you, too, but for right now, try to keep the weird shit away from the shop and don’t go warding me or Abby out, all right?” He glared at Andrew as he sat back from the desk. “You’ll want to change the damn things to just keep out the bastards after Neil.”

“I’ll work on them,” Andrew said, and when all Wymack did was stare at him, was wave at the man before he tossed the empty bottle in the trash can. “Well, it’s been enlightening, but we’re out of here.”

“Remember what I said about keeping the weird shit away from here,” Wymack reminded them as they turned to leave. “The rest are mortals and don’t deserve to get caught in the crossfire of our craziness.”

Neil stilled at that, until Andrew gave him a gentle push. “What do you think we’re trying to do?” Why did the old man think Andrew had set up the wards in the first place? Rather than argue, Andrew continued to push Neil toward the back of the shop, where it was empty. “Come on, I’m hungry.” And only had a slight buzz from the whiskey – he wondered if it was his special ‘lineage’ that was to blame for his high tolerance to alcohol.

“When aren’t you?” Neil asked with a bit of exasperation, and as soon as they clocked out and put their aprons in their lockers, along with their stupid work t-shirts, Neil gently grasped Andrew’s left hand and then did the weird teleporting thing.

It was dark in Barcelona because of the time of night, but Andrew could see the illuminated spires of the one cathedral, Sagrada Familia, in the background from the narrow alleyway where Neil had brought them. It was mostly quiet at late an hour, but there were still cars out on the main road and lights were strung high above them in the alleyway to cast a festive air, there were people walking about despite the late time, dressed as if going to a party or a club. Neil led him along with a clear destination in mind; they were only out on the street with its closed shops and restaurants for a minute or two before they ducked down another narrow alleyway lined with what appeared to be smaller shops and private dwellings before Neil went down a couple of steps and opened an unmarked door.

Annoyed at the idiot for that, Andrew hurried to catch up in case there was trouble, and found himself in a small restaurant filled with an… _interesting_ mix of clientele. There were birdlike… uhm, men? creatures? around a circular table in the corner, and others whom he took to be satyrs at the bar. There were women dressed in untanned hides with ivy in their hair who pounded on the table while demanding more wine – at least until they noticed Neil and then they quieted – and another table of beautiful Asian women with long black hair and pale skin dressed in white who only appeared to be drinking sangria. Andrew also thought he saw a couple of people similar to the ‘light elves’ at the bar, except their skin had a swarthy tone and their hair various shades of black and dark brown, even if their skin was the same too-smooth texture and there was still a slight glimmer to them.

Andrew was going to say that this wasn’t the usual tourist trap, especially when he noticed the woman tending bar who looked to be in her early twenties (Andrew had learned that looks didn’t always mean the truth) with almost black eyes and long black hair and skin a couple of shades past gold, with what appeared to be henna tattoos all along her hands and forearms… except that they shifted about in the shadows of the bar, one moment flowers and wavy lines, the next runes and glyphs. She gave Neil a respectful bow of the head and motioned to a table off to the side of the bar.

“Who is she?” Andrew asked, since she seemed to radiate the most authority in the room.

“Hmm, similar to Abigail.” Neil waited for Andrew to pick his seat, choosing the chair which put his back to the wall and allowed him the best view of the small restaurant and the door. “She’s from the Anaga region.” When Andrew gave him a blank look, Neil sighed and toyed with the cuff of his left sleeve. “It’s a powerful coven.”

“So what, are witches more of a common thing?” Andrew asked as he stroked along his arm bands, right before another woman, her black hair cut around shoulder length and eyes a greenish-hazel yet she possessed the same weird henna tattoos, dropped off a bottle of water and two glasses, along with a couple of menus. She gave Neil a respectful bow as well before moving on.

“Yes and no,” Neil said as he pushed the menus toward Andrew, clearly leaving it up to him to order. “True witches, who know the meaning of magic and can live for centuries? There aren’t many and they tend to be tied to certain bloodlines. But there are cycles where people seem to think they… well, that they know more than they do.” He grew quiet for a moment. “The Hellfire Club, Crowley, this recent fascination with what you call ‘Wicca’ and the such.” Then he seemed to consider something. “It’s not bad, this interest in magic, it’s just that….” He feel silent as he shrugged.

“It’s not real,” Andrew guessed as he watched how Neil had lowered his gaze and taken to playing with his left cuff again, as he remembered what he’d said about magic before.

“They don’t get certain things right,” Neil elaborated. “Humans… they tend to try to simplify things, to say that ‘this is good’ and ‘this is bad’. To break things down into good and evil, light and dark.” His brows drew together as he stared at Andrew. “It’s never that simple, that… it’s not like that.” His voice grew quiet and rough as he spoke. “Abigail could tell you about consequences, about accepting what you cast, that your spells change things. Sometimes it’s for the better, sometimes it’s not, and sometimes… sometimes it’s both. Sometimes you do it on the behest of someone, sometimes you do it because you know it will make things better in the end but there’s still a price to be paid. Sometimes there’s so much pain involved that you just don’t care.” Neil’s eyes grew luminous and his face became cast in shadows. “Sometimes you accept that there’s to be a price paid, because that is how things are to be.” He sounded as if he knew that… as if he was well aware that there was always a price to be paid.

Andrew hated that Neil was well acquainted with there being a price to be paid for everything.

He hated that he knew how it felt as well.

They both were quiet for about a minute, until Andrew picked up one of the menus. “I’m thinking the potato croquettes sound good.”

“Hmm.” Neil nodded in agreement. “They are rather nice.”

It was a surprise, hearing Neil say something good about food. Andrew gave him a lingering gaze for a moment before he went down through the menu – he had a semi-decent grasp of Spanish after living in California for so long and with Nicky for a few years. “A double order of those, the patatas bravas, the baguettes with tomato and ham and the ones with goat cheese and chorizo, and a large carafe of sangria.” They could always order more if he was still hungry, he supposed.

Neil sighed as he rested his chin on his right fist. “You don’t want to try the fried baby octopi?” There was a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Funny.” Andrew smacked a menu onto the idiot’s face while he looked around for the one woman to take their order, and noticed several aghast stares directed their way. “I want a drink, _now_.”

The young woman appeared a couple of seconds later, and gaped at him while she took down the order. She shot Neil a glance as if waiting for him to say something, but all he did was sit there with that slight smile on his face and nod before she left their table. “So, Wymack,” he said once she was gone.

“Yes, Wymack.” Andrew frowned as he picked up his glass of water. “Janus, really?” As far as he knew, that was the god of calendars and shit like that. “How does that happen? Are there gods flipping burgers and hawking shit everywhere?”

Neil’s expression grew pained as he stared at the table’s surface, his fingers twisted together as if he struggled to not tug at his hood instead. “Uhm. Sometimes?” When he continued to stare downward and twist his fingers into convoluted knots, Andrew reached over to touch his hands, once more taken back by how cool Neil’s skin felt; Neil looked up at him and blinked, and a moment later smiled. “It’s… complicated.”

“Everything to do with you ‘Named Ones’ seems to be,” Andrew snapped, which made Neil blink again. Since it was then that the one woman came back to their table with some plates, napkins, glasses and the sangria, it gave them a moment to calm down until she left. Andrew took a slow breath as he poured them both something to drink. “Explain.”

“All right.” Neil had a sip of the drink while he seemed to gather his thoughts. “Unlike a lot of the Named Ones, gods need to be worshiped. They came into being based on humans believing them, and they will fade away when they lose enough of that belief.” His eyes flared for a moment before he ducked his head again. “They’ve had to adapt over the centuries, to take the bit of belief that humans still have in them and twist it into something that works for them. Janus is lucky because he’s tied to the belief in your sense of time, of calendars, of new beginnings.” He paused again for another sip and looked up at Andrew. “It’s that new beginnings which matters to him, because he’s always been one who believes in second chances for people. It appears that while he exists on what people believe ‘Janus’ to be… he finds a sense of purpose in providing a second chance to people.”

In other words, Wymack got off on his little charity projects at the Laughing Fox. Andrew scoffed before he drained half of his glass of sangria – it was really good, nice and tart – then shook his head. “So he gets something out of hiring a bunch of rejects?”

“Yes?” Neil sounded a little uncertain just then. “It’s not the act of hiring them that benefits him, but actually providing them the opportunity to better themselves. That and people bettering themselves because of him helping them out.”

All right then, Andrew wouldn’t punch the old bastard the next time he had a shift. “Is it that way with the other gods?”

“Somewhat,” Neil agreed. “They’ve had to adapt to the modern times, but not many worry about benefiting humans as much as Janus have.” He did another slight shrug, which caused his hood to slide down to his shoulders, and Andrew noticed that more of the restaurant’s guests were staring at _his_ idiot. “Only those who had been patrons of mortals before, who had watched over them such as a goddess of expectant mother or children, a god of protection, things like that.” He smiled a little at Andrew and reached out for a gentle touch to Andrew’s left hand. “Not all of them, but I think… you are familiar with the protection part, yes?”

Andrew scoffed a little. “I don’t see anyone worshipping me.”

“That would be interesting, yes? Would you prefer your offerings as pizza, whiskey and sweet coffee drinks?”

“I would ban all idiots from my temple,” Andrew insisted as he gave Neil a slight flick on the forehead, and thought he heard someone gasp at a nearby table while Neil at first blinked and then smiled at him. As always, Andrew felt an odd feeling in his chest at the sight, at the knowledge that he had brought out that expression on Neil's usually solemn or guarded face, and scoffed a little before having some more of the fruity yet strong wine. "Such a shame you'd never be able to enter."

"I'm sure I'd be heartbroken," Neil told him, his chin resting on his hands, which were covered by the black cloth of his over-long sleeves.

"Yes, I'm sure you would." Spying an ashtray on the table, Andrew lit up a cigarette while they waited for their food. "So, tell me how you met Abby."

"Hmm, I suppose that's all right, considering you know about her now." Neil, his eyes bright in the dim light of the restaurant (Andrew thought that technically it was called a tapas bar, his mind as always dredging up bits of information or memories and throwing it at him), began regaling Andrew with the tale of England during Oliver Cromwell's reign, a time that apparently wasn't the best for a centuries' old witch who had aided many of the ladies of waiting in service to the royal family. Andrew had a feeling that it wasn't the best of times for Neil, either, as the silver in his eyes flared and his expression smoothed out, as there was a slight chill in the air around him and he glossed over the talk of war, just an offhand comment about him being 'busy'. It was on a battlefield that he crossed paths with Abby - Abigail, as he tended to call her - who had the temerity to curse at him when he claimed a soul she attempted to heal before she seemed to come to her senses. He watched over her after that, amused by her spirit and interested in her skills and compassion, and helped her make it to France safely.

It was Andrew's turn after that, and he told Neil about how she was one of Bee's friends, how she was this kind, cheerful woman with the loud, gruff boyfriend who came over with the dubious pies and cakes for potluck dinners all the time, who smiled at him but was mindful of his space yet often gave him used paperbacks as gifts when she visited. While he talked, the one young woman with the short hair dropped off their food, once again respectful of Neil while giving Andrew an appraising stare, and promised to return with more sangria.

The croquettes were indeed delicious, as was the rest of the food, so Andrew told her to bring more of them when she dropped off another carafe. Neil just smiled and made sure to grab the last two on the plate, which earned him a displeased look from Andrew. "I've been told that I need to eat more."

"Amusing." Andrew picked up the last of the bruschetta with goat cheese and chorizo, which he broke into quarters before popping a piece into his mouth. "What do you think Nicky and Erik are doing right now?"

Things were quiet while Neil ate his pilfered food, his expression thoughtful. "The antidote Abby gave Nicky should counter most of the backlash, but probably not all of it - the point of everything is for Nicky to learn something." Neil gazed at Andrew over the rim of his glass while he had some wine. "It should be an uncomfortable night for your cousin, and I imagine he might have to explain his actions to Erik."

Huh, Andrew wondered if Erik would do some explaining of his own, then. "The pest deserves some 'discomfort' for pulling that shit."

"I'm not-" Neil stopped and frowned. "I do what I do because it's what I am," he tried to explain, his expression once more guarded. "I _have_ to _be_ , because there has to be death for there to be life, there has to be an ending for new things to begin." He took to tugging at his bangs as he avoided Andrew's eyes, and around the small restaurant, bar, whatever, the other guests grew quiet as Neil's aspect strengthened, his eyes gleamed. "The Named Ones like me, we _exist_ ," he breathed out, auburn hair flame-bright around his bone-thin, bone-white fingers - at least until Andrew reached out to grab his hand and gently tug it down, the heat of his own fingers burning away the intense chill.

"I get that by now," he told his idiot. "Whatever."

His words made Neil gasp, just a little, and summoned forth another tremulous smile as Neil twisted his hand about in Andrew's grasp until their fingers were entwined; around them, the other guests took to muttering about something.

"Yes, all right." Neil ducked his head once before he resumed gazing back at Andrew. "I was just... it's different, with witches and the others, but especially witches. Sometimes they cast things knowing it's without the person's consent, but they do so willingly and knowing the price. Sometimes it's for good, and sometimes...." His smile faltered a little and he gave a one-shoulder shrug. "They pay the price. Sometimes they cast on the behalf of someone else, and if they are at all decent, are what you might consider 'good', they make that person aware of the cost."

'Decent', huh? "And is Abby 'decent’?" Not good, but _decent_.

"Yes," Neil assured him without hesitation. "She accepts the cost, those times when she is paying the price, and she always lets the person know when it's them who must pay it. This is what she's trying to teach your cousin."

"Let's hope he's a quick learner for once." Andrew paused in filling his glass with the last of the sangria, until Neil nodded at him. "Funny, how most people seem to think that the more power they have, the more they can get away with." He pushed aside the dark memories in his head, unwilling to dwell on them when he was with Neil – mostly because Neil seemed to understand.

"Perhaps because most people don't know what true power is?"

Andrew considered that, considered what Neil was and how most of the people in the small bar stared at him with blatant want, fear or adoration on their faces - some with a disturbing blend of all three.

The extra croquettes and sangria arrived, and Neil smiled as he made a half-hearted attempt to swipe some more, which Andrew easily batted aside. "You suck yet again," he sneered, well aware that Neil could have snatched some of the food if he really wanted it.

"I can't decide if you would get along with Gluttony or not," the idiot declared as he leaned back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest. "It might be best to not introduce you to each other."

"Again, amusing." Andrew gave him a flat look as he broke a croquette in half and popped a piece into his mouth.

"Not really. I think-" Neil stilled as someone came through the door, someone dressed in a glittering gold dress that left a lot of her smooth skin exposed, her golden blonde hair pulled into an artful mess on top of her head with strands curling down her shoulders and back, a hint of make-up on her model-worthy face which spoke of skillful application - all in all, she was stunning and drew appreciative glances from almost everyone in the tapas bar, except from Andrew and Neil. Andrew because he just didn't care, and Neil because he seemed apprehensive.

The stranger waved to the woman behind the bar and then caught sight of Neil, which made her smile, her lacquer-shiny lips curving into an expression worthy of a pleased cat. She paused to say something to the bartender before making a straight line over to their table, while Neil sighed and pulled his hood over his head.

"Well, isn't this an honor?" she declared as she came to a halt next to the idiot, "you out and being social for once? I didn't think I'd had that much to drink tonight!"

Neil huddled down in his chair as if he could disappear inside of his hooded t-shirt. "I always did find your sense of humor rather dubious."

"Says the man who talks to crows, foxes and cats." The woman sniffed before she turned her attention to Andrew, who continued to eat the croquettes. "Which I'm assuming you're neither." Her blue eyes narrowed as she seemed to be searching for something behind him - he turned and realized it was his shadow. "Nope, not a shape-changer." Then her eyes went wide. "Wait! Is he-" Her head whipped around so fast back in Neil's direction that a strand of hair fell free from the diamond clips holding it up. "He's _Andrew_?"

Andrew's eyes narrowed as Neil slumped down a little further. "Yes," the idiot said in a slight voice.

"Really, now." The blonde woman's blue eyes narrowed in what might be delight as she turned back to face Andrew, her smile once more pleased. "How interesting."

"Aglaia, _no_ ," Neil said, his voice containing the echo of power as he sat up. "No meddling."

"I wasn't going to meddle," Aglaia sniffed, appearing only mildly affected by Neil’s nature. "I'm just curious, after hearing you and ‘Siphone talk about him so much."

"Wait, ‘Siphone? As in Tisiphone?" Andrew asked, remembering the research he'd done on Furies.

Neil sighed while Aglaia's smile faltered. "Yes, as in Tisiphone." He gave Aglaia a disapproving look. "She and Aglaia are... friends."

Aglaia – Andrew thought she might be a Muse or Grace - sniffed again. "We're _more_ than that, but sure, that works." She wrapped a strand of hair around her left forefinger, her expression now sour, as she glanced back and forth between them. "What are the two of you doing here?"

"Enjoying something to eat," Neil told her. "What about you?"

"Just wanted a snack in-between parties." She tugged on her hair while her smile made a sudden return – which made Neil blink and go still, which didn’t seem a good thing. "Hey, you can help me out with something - I want to get something back but it's warded."

Neil tugged on his hood while he frowned. "I don't know about that."

"Oh come on, it's in some mortal's hands so it’s fair game, it's just that he lucked into finding a witch who actually knew what he was doing in casting protective spells to ensure that the asshole's place doesn't get raided or broken into." Aglaia's smile took on a sharp edge. "All because he has a lot of stuff there that he shouldn't, and it's time someone does something about that. I’ll see that the rest of the stuff returns to its proper place, I promise."

"You're not usually so charitable," Neil said as his frown deepened and Andrew wondered if he might need his knives. "Why?"

She waved her left hand about in the air. "Oh, I feel like redecorating the New York penthouse, now that ‘Siphone's staying there more often. Come on," she wheedled, her eyes wide and smile almost charming, "it'll be an adventure."

Andrew finished the last croquette and arched an eyebrow as something occurred to him. "If she can't get through, how can you?"

"Because I can go anywhere," Neil admitted in a quiet voice as he all but pulled the hood halfway down his face.

Aglaia nodded. "Nothing can block him out - not a lock or ward or _anything_."

Andrew supposed it was a good thing that he hadn't tried to do that earlier with the ward around the coffee shop and grunted. "That why you don't bother with keys or anything?"

"They are a bit unnecessary," Neil admitted as he peeked past the edge of his hood at Andrew.

'Unnecessary' - and Neil got on Andrew about _his_ manners. Taking a moment to finish off the last of the sangria, Andrew gave his idiot another flat look before standing up. "Well then, let's go have an adventure, why don't we?" He was full and had a slight buzz, time to have some fun, he supposed. Especially since it appeared that Neil was humoring the Grace as he hadn’t gone full-aspect on her yet to get her to leave them alone.

Aglaia let out a loud cheer while Neil sighed and pulled out his wallet to leave some euros on the table, and she stopped by the bar to pick up a paper bag of something before they left the place. When Andrew gave her a curious look, she picked out something small and spiky, almost like a twisted star, which smelled fried and delicious before popping it in her mouth with a wide grin. “Fried octopus, you want one?”

He gave her a disgusted look before glaring at Neil. “You weren’t joking about that?”

Neil frowned and shook his head. “No, why would I?”

“Because it’s gross?”

Aglaia clicked her tongue before having another fried cephalopod. “What’s the problem? I’ve seen the shit that you humans, even half-humans, eat. This is _nothing_.” She had another one and made a show of crunching down on it. “And it’s tasty.”

Andrew narrowed his eyes at her, not about to get in a debate about eating habits at the moment – especially since Neil was giving him a knowing smile just then. “Are we going to commit breaking and entering, grand larceny and a few other crimes right now or what?” Else he was going to be bored and want to go home.

Aglaia (Andrew was going with the one book that had called her a Grace) cocked her head to the side and smiled. “Fine, time to get down to business.” She bent her left arm and held it out to Neil, who sighed as he looped his right arm through it in a cautious manner. “You want some?”

“No thank you, I’m full,” he told her before offering his left hand to Andrew, who accepted it without any hesitation. Just as Andrew had braced himself for it, they did that ‘between’ thing and the next thing he knew, they were standing in front of a sprawling mansion crafted out of concrete and glass up in the mountains somewhere, the stars bright above them.

“The asshole should be in Genoa for a few days, and of course he doesn’t trust any staff to be around when he’s not here,” Aglaia explained between snacks. “Impressive as hell security system, but-“ She flicked out her right hand while smirking, nails flashing in the moonlight.

“Yes.” Neil’s eyes flared bright for heartbeat as he stepped forward, his fingers still entwined with Andrew’s. “Stay here while I deal with this.”

“Sure,” she told him, and wiggled her fingers at Andrew before placing a tiny fried octopus between her glossed lips then winking at him.

“Are all Graces like her?” Andrew asked as he went along with Neil toward the house, aware of how their feet didn’t make a sound on the fine gravel that lined both sides of the wide driveway; he could see the security cameras, yet for some reason Neil didn’t seem worried about them.

“Aglaia? She’s… unique,” Neil murmured, his fingers tightened around Andrew’s for a moment. “She’s never been afraid to be anything but herself, even if others object.” He sounded wistful about that.

Interesting. “And she knows Tisiphone, a Fury.” A Fury they would be talking about later, especially since it seemed that both Tisiphone and Aglaia knew about Andrew in some manner.

Neil’s shoulders tensed for a moment. “She knows her very well.”

Even more interesting, but they had reached the wide front doors of the house at that point, so Andrew saved the questions for the time being; the doors were made of glass, which seemed impractical, but they were also thick as hell and there were more security cameras as well as a pad requiring a code so he was willing to bet that any attempt to tamper with them would set off an impressive alarm. That and he could feel the ward around the place, something that made his teeth ache with the need to walk away.

Yet Neil stood there before the doors with his head cocked to the side, his eyes like beacons in the dark, and after a couple of seconds he gave a slight nod as he reached out with his left hand to touch the doors. As soon as he made contact with the glass surface, the ache faded in Andrew’s head the same time that the doors swung open.

“You are utterly adorable, do you know that?” Aglaia called out as she approached the house, and blew Neil a kiss before sauntering inside ahead of them. “You’re my favorite.”

“Uhm, favorite what?” Neil asked, and sighed when all she did was flash him a grin over her mostly bare shoulder.

Andrew stepped forward and tugged on their joined hands; it should bother him, that they were still holding on to each other, but for some reason it didn’t, not when it was Neil, and he wasn’t certain if it was all right to let go. “Come on, I want to see what’s in here.”

Neil sighed again and allowed himself to be pulled along while Andrew investigated the mansion with its marble floors and what looked to be Persian rugs, the suede and velvet couches and glass tables, the expensive as hell appliances and delicate antiques scattered about everywhere. The artwork on the walls and pedestals that he was certain should be in museums, not some private resident.

He found Aglaia standing in front of a huge painting of three mostly naked women with their arms wrapped around each other and standing in front of a tree. “Someone you know?”

Her lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “Why yes, you could say that. Ruben took a few liberties, but his heart was in the right place.” She glanced over her shoulder at Neil. “No alarms, right?”

“No alarms,” he agreed.

“Good.” Her smile took on a sharp edge as she reached out to tap a bright red nail against the ornate as hell frame, which crumbled to dust in seconds. Then she waved her hand and the painting floated off of the wall, rolled up before her and then somehow fitted into the small red purse she held up to it, which before hadn’t appeared able to contain anything more than a lipstick and a key or two, perhaps a couple of folded bills.

“Nice trick,” Andrew told her.

“Isn’t it?” Aglaia winked at him again as she glanced around the large room. “It comes in handy when one’s out on the town or putting greedy assholes in their place.”

“Where did he get all of these things?” Andrew waved to a Picasso that he was certain should be in the Louvre, if his one art teacher in high school had been correct. “Are they real?”

Aglaia sniffed as she went over to some tapestry of a goat-like unicorn. “Of course they are, we’re talking about the shadow mover and shakers, the ones with all the money and power in your _mortal_ world.” A sneer came over her perfect face for a moment. “People like this asshole took advantage of certain events to collect this stuff and foist off fakes on the plebeians, nothing’s changed in centuries. Well, not until now.” The sneer changed into something resembling resolution. “I’m gonna clean him out, return everything I can, hang up my shit back home and laugh about it with Tisiphone.”

Neil was quiet during the rant but nodded when the Grace fell quiet. “Then we’ll leave you to it, yes? The wards have been altered to accept you, you can come and go at will.”

She laughed at that as she waved at him, her good mood restored. “I’m fine so go on – my bag should be able to handle everything and I’m an expert at ransacking a place in record time.” She grinned at Neil as she laced her fingers together and cracked her knuckles as she extended her arms. “You should see me on Black Friday, I leave carnage in my wake and get whatever I want.” When all Neil did was stare at her in evident confusion, she sighed and gave Andrew a pointed look. “Bring him up to speed, will ya?”

Andrew shrugged a little. “No promises,” he said as he tugged Neil closer – and then noticed an egg around the size of his hand on a small metal pedestal, made of what looked to be enamel and multi-colored stones to resemble a couple of bees crawling on the pave flowers. “Hey, what about this?” he asked. “This thing one of yours?” Bee would love it.

Aglaia and Neil looked at the egg for a moment, Neil’s expression blank and Aglaia’s sad. “No, its owners… they’re long gone,” Aglaia said as she toyed with the thin chain of her purse’s strap. “If… well, if you want it, take it as ‘thanks’ for letting me crash your date.”

Neil blinked at that, then gave Andrew a slight nod. “The bloodline is no more, as she said.”

Andrew picked up the egg and its filigree stand, and was surprised by how light it was, at its fine craftsmanship. He frowned as he took a close look at it, and noticed that the egg was hinged, that it opened up to reveal what looked to be a rose made out of red stones inside. “What, is this… _fuck_.” What was it – Faberge, Andrew’s mind supplied for him, which meant the stones were real and the thing had to be worth a small fortune.

“As we said, the bloodline is all gone,” Neil repeated.

“It’s the same for a lot of these things,” Aglaia admitted as she stood before a painting of a woman in some old-fashioned outfit. “Spoils of war, one might say, but it’s really just filthy greed and-“ She let out a shuddering breath and shook her head once her fit of anger appeared under control. “I’ll see what I can do, and Tisiphone will help.” That helped to restore her smile. “It’ll make her feel good.”

Neil nodded to her with a slight smile on his own face, and once the egg was tucked against Andrew’s chest, he vanished them away and Andrew found himself standing in the shadows of the Laughing Fox’s parking look. “Dammit, I just thought that Bee might like it,” Andrew said about the egg. “She collects shit like this.” What was he going to do with the thing?

“Give it to her,” Neil told him. “I don’t understand why humans take something so beautiful and let it gather dust when it’s meant to be admired and loved so give it to her if she’ll appreciate it.”

Right, just give her a priceless heirloom like it was some stupid knickknack. Yet Andrew could understand part of what Neil had said, even if he couldn’t grasp why the idiot was letting him walk away with something worth so much money, why Aglaia hadn’t wanted to keep it for herself. What he did instead was reach out with his free hand, now that Neil had let it go, to grab the front of Neil’s shirt and pulled him in close. “Yes or no?” he asked, and waited for the idiot to nod.

“Yes,” Neil said, his voice quiet in the near empty parking lot, right before Andrew bridged the gap between them for a kiss that started out slow and shallow but deepened as much as he dared with them out in public and a fortune of gems tucked between them. Neil did that low moan thing of his as his lips parted, and Andrew’s hand shifted up to cup the side of the idiot’s face, to feel smooth, cool skin as his tongue slipped inside.

Part of him wanted to stand there and kiss forever, as illogical as that was, while another part of him wanted him to drag Neil somewhere private, somewhere they’d never be interrupted. The low thrum of a car driving past helped to restore his senses to him, to remind him that it wasn’t the smartest thing, standing in a parking lot like that, so he pulled away with some regret and smiled the slightest bit when Neil groaned in evident disappointment.

“It’s….” Color tinted Neil’s cheeks pink as his tongue swiped along his bottom lip and he shook his head.

“It’s what?” Andrew asked as he nodded in the direction of his car.

Neil sighed and ducked his head. “It’s never enough, even if it’s very… nice.”

Andrew nearly dropped the damn egg upon hearing that; no, it wasn’t, and for once he felt as if he was looking forward to ‘more’, to letting Neil touch him and- nothing too fast, but moving forward a little. All because it was Neil, because the idiot didn’t push or presume.

They got into the car, where Andrew tucked the egg into the center console for safekeeping, and made their way to Neil’s apartment. Andrew figured he’d go upstairs with Neil and hang out a little, see where things led (or didn’t lead, no sense in being presumptuous on _his_ part), both of them quiet as it had been a long day (though he wasn’t sure that Neil slept at all). He managed to find a parking spot near the building, and double-checked that the car was locked once they got out. “Let me try something,” he said, concerned about the egg.

“All right.” Neil stepped back onto the sidewalk, and smiled when he realized that Andrew was warding the vehicle. “Hmm, you’re becoming skilled at that.”

Andrew felt a little flustered at the praise. “It’s good practice, that and-“

“Mort, nous devons parler.”

Andrew cursed upon hearing French while Neil whirled around, his smile wiped away by the sight of Temperance stepping forward with some greenery held in his left hand, his right hand extended. “Viens avec moi et je vais le laisser seul.”

Neil was still while Andrew started to go around the car, to make his way to the asshole with the fire burning in him at the thought of how the fucking Virtue wouldn’t leave Neil the hell alone. “Get the hell away from – _Neil_!” He wasn’t more than two steps away when Neil reached out to grab Temperance’s out-held hand and the both of them vanished – Andrew attempted to grab onto his idiot only for his fingers to swipe through empty air.

“ _Dammit_!” he shouted, the rage flaring inside of him so hot that he felt as if his skin would crackle and char from the heat. He wanted to punch something, to take out his knives and stab them deep, but there was no target, nothing – no Temperance, no Neil.

He was buying that fucking collar.

*******

Death huffed a little when he realized that Temperance had taken them to the Père Lachaise cemetery in Paris, near Oscar Wilde’s tomb at that. “I didn’t know you were a fan?” he remarked, while Temperance dropped the sprigs of basil and apple blossoms which he’d shown to Death in an effort to prove his trustworthiness.

The Virtue shrugged while he smoothed his right hand along the black wool coat he wore. “He had a singular wit, and of course the English persecuted him for it,” he remarked with a disapproving sniff.

“Ah, as if there aren’t any deceased here who were persecuted by the French,” Death commented as he stood before the stylized Sphynx figure. When Temperance glared at him, he gave back a bland look in return. “What?”

“There’s that smart tongue of yours, no wonder Deception is so determined to bring you to heel.”

And there it was, the reason why Death had left Andrew back in Oakland. “I’m sure there’s more to it than that,” he said, the faint bit of humor gone. “Such as his mistaken belief that I’m owed to him and that he can somehow use my powers to his benefit.”

“’Mistaken’.” Temperance shivered as he hugged his arms around himself as if cold, despite the fact that it was a temperate night in Paris. “Is it a mistake if he forces it to come true?”

Death stared at the Virtue; on the whole, he didn’t have a problem with Temperance, other than the fact that the man seemed to be Deception’s lackey. “Does he have some sort of binding on you?” Had the scabrous prick managed to complete what he’d only partially carved onto Death?

Temperance was quiet for several seconds before he let out a slow breath. “I cannot… if you see me again, do not trust me,” he warned, his expression haunted and grey eyes shadowed with pain. “I approached you this time to convey a message, to tell you that it would be best for you to give in now, to go to Deception instead of hiding behind wards and the demi-god. Don’t make him flush you out.”

Death stilled at the threat and noticed how Temperance no longer looked him in the eye. “Does he truly think he can best me when it comes to power?” He let his Aspect pour forth until the Virtue hunched over before him. “ _Does he_?”

“He is _Deception_ ,” Temperance gasped. “He knows better than to come at you directly but will use your weaknesses against you, will strike when you least expect it.” He shook his head as he rubbed at the center of his chest. “Fairness and honor are unknown concepts to him, the diseased-ridden pig,” he spat.

“ _That_ I know.” Death forced himself to calm down, to pull back in his power as there were a few mortals wandering around the cemetery despite the lateness of the night. “I’ve dealt with him more than long enough, after all.” Had seen all the web of lies that Deception had spun ruin so many.

“Good, then you know why you can’t-“ Temperance groaned and once more clutched at his chest. “Why… you shouldn’t resist,” he ground out through clenched teeth; Death had the impression that wasn’t what the Virtue had originally meant to say.

He also had the impression that he must never, ever allow Deception to finish the sigil on his chest. That he had been wise in handing over his true name to Andrew.

It was quiet in the cemetery as Temperance fought to regain his composure, the only sounds that of the wind rustling about in the various plants and trees, of the birds flying overhead and of a few animals skittering about. "If there's a way...," Death began to offer, only for Temperance to shake his head.

"Worry about yourself," the Virtue told him, not unkindly. "Deception is... he is determined."

"He's always been that way," Death agreed with an annoyed frown. "He's never grasped that some things are beyond his reach."

"I will enjoy watching him fail should it happen, I must admit." A faint smile hovered on Temperance's lips as he managed to straighten up. "It will be long over-" His eyes went wide as Courage and Compassion all but burst from _between_ a meter or so away from them, Compassion wielding his broadsword and Courage a crossbow loaded with enchanted bolts.

"Hello." Death welcomed them with a slight nod. "Off on a date? Planning on hunting the ghouls in the catacombs again?" He knew that Courage enjoyed doing it, and Compassion enjoyed anything that made Courage happy.

Temperance gave his fellow Virtues a disapproving sniff. "Such crass amusements, truly."

"Hey, it keeps the population in check," Compassion snapped as he lowered his sword a little while Courage took to cursing in ancient Sumerian, and then he raised it to point it in an unimpressed Temperance's direction. "And wait a minute, we're here because you shanghaied our friend!"

"That term is offensive and I did no such thing," Temperance said, his tone even frostier than before.

"He's correct on both items," Death agreed.

"Oh don't even _go_ there," Compassion told him with a good bit of scorn. "Not with half the stuff _you_ say!"

Death frowned at that. "What?" When had he ever said anything offensive - well, when he wasn't talking about his father or Deception.

Courage finally stopped swearing and uncocked the bolt before she lowered the crossbow. "Enough, okay? We'll be here all night with this bickering." She gave the three of them a stern look before turning toward Death. "Temperance didn't force you to go with him?"

"No, he approached me with peace offerings so I went with him." Death thought it might be prudent to leave out the comment about Andrew, since he wasn't sure that Temperance had any choice in uttering it.

"All I've done is passed on a message, nothing else." Temperance gave his fellow Virtues a cold look while he shoved his hands into the pockets of his long black coat. "Now then, if you want to play games and torment poor scavengers, I'll be leaving."

"Oh for, remember the infestation of 1581," Compassion shouted at the man, right as Temperance slipped _between_. "’Poor scavengers’ my ass," he muttered. "Obviously he doesn't care if they get loose and turn Aunt Marie then start eating Uncle Claude and the cousins."

"You don't have an Aunt Marie or Uncle Claude, let alone cousins," Death reminded his friend.

Compassion heaved a weary sigh. "Why do I bother?" he asked while looking upward, the sword now slung over his left shoulder, then frowned at Death for all of two seconds before he smiled. "Aw, you're forgiven."

Forgiven for what? Death's frown deepened while Courage chuckled. "Well, everything might be fine and dandy with you, but _someone_ has some making up to do." She slung the leather strap of the crossbow over her head and across her chest, until the weapon rested against her back. "There's a certain demi-god who's a bit unhappy right now."

"Oh." Death thought about that for a moment, about the look on Andrew's face right before he'd left with Temperance and winced. " _Oh_."

"'Oh', exactly." Courage came over and tousled his hair before he could move away in time. "You sorta messed up this time, I hate to tell you."

Death rubbed his hands over his face as he wondered just how upset Andrew was with him. "Uhm, what should I do?"

Courage seemed to think about it while exchanging a loaded look with Compassion. "Text him when we get back so he knows that you've returned and are all right. Then be prepared for some groveling."

Wonderful. Death nodded to show that he understood, confused by how upset he was and why Andrew would be angry with him when his friend knew what he was and should also know that he could handle Temperance by himself. Why was everything so _confusing_ when it came to Andrew? Confusing yet wonderful at the same time.

Death wrapped his arms around himself as he slipped _between_ to return to the apartment so he could set about to do his best to make amends.

*******

Anger simmering inside of him, Andrew set his phone aside on his bed, done texting with Neil for the night; it was clear that his idiot still didn’t completely understand things, didn’t get why Andrew was so pissed off just then, but at least Neil was trying. He had apologized (it had taken a few texts for Neil to move from ‘I am sorry for causing you concern’ to ‘I am sorry for leaving you behind and won’t do it again’ _, finally_ ) and explained what had happened with that asshole Temperance. Andrew had the impression that Neil wasn’t pleased to do things over the phone and by texts at that, but Andrew was just….

The anger was too strong in him, just then. It wasn’t that he’d hurt Neil, he’d _never_ hurt Neil, but he wanted to shout and punch things and grab hold of a certain idiot and shake him until he understood how he was never to do something so stupid again. In other words, it was better for Andrew to put a bit of distance between them until tomorrow, when he would have a better rein over his temper, over that fire inside of him (and maybe give Neil some time to think over how _fucking_ stupid he’d been).

So Temperance had been passing on a message, how nice. Next time it might not be something as innocuous as that, might be the asshole trying to hurt Neil or to grab him.

Next time it might be Deception.

Andrew went to fetch a bottle of water from the kitchen and some snacks, since he had a feeling that he wouldn’t be going to sleep anytime soon, and when he returned to his bedroom, he felt the rage flare at the sight of seeing Natalie, dressed in a loose-knit blue cropped cardigan over a white tank top and long white skirt, sitting on his desk with the Faberge egg held in her hands.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” he asked, surprised at how normal he sounded just then; the wards were up and Bee was already in bed since she had a long day tomorrow, and Nicky was with Erik.

Natalie smiled at him, and Andrew dropped the bottle of water and bag of chips in his hands when he caught sight of the sharp white teeth, as he noticed how the ends of Natalie’s white hair were bright red. “ _Fuck_ , but you’re-“

“While I do like the name ‘Natalie’, you may call me ‘Tisiphone’,” she told him in that quiet, soothing voice of hers – the same voice from his dream. Dammit, why had he never noticed that they were the same woman? “If you want.”

“How the hell did you get in here?” he asked as he bent to snatch up the fallen items and threw them on his bed while never taking his gaze off of her; he didn’t feel afraid, not after that night in the forest, not after all the times she’d come into the Laughing Fox. “What about the wards?”

She hummed a little as she turned the jeweled egg in her hands. “You _called_ me, so I can always come to you.” For a moment her eyes flared bright red. “There’s a… well, consider it a contract between us. A bond of sorts.”

Okay, that was a little creepy. “What, you kill someone for me and that makes me your responsibility?” he asked, his tone derisive as he sat on the edge of his bed.

“Yes,” she told him, her demeanor serious as she looked at him with solemn dark eyes. For a moment he was reminded of Neil when he became too quiet, too still, of how the idiot seemed burdened with too many years and too much power.

Andrew clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Why are you here, _now_?”

The question made Natalie – no, _Tisiphone_ – smile and become more ‘normal’. “Well, Aglaia returned home and told me about your little adventure, and I realized that I didn’t have to hide the truth from you anymore.” She held up the egg for a moment. “Thank you for aiding her tonight.”

Andrew clicked his tongue again. “I didn’t do much other than tag along.” All right, this was one of the weirder conversations he’d had lately, and considering _Neil_ … that was something.

“Hmm, no, you helped.” She studied the egg for a moment. “Death wouldn’t have agreed to her request before, wouldn’t have involved himself in such a thing.” Her lips quirked upward as she traced the diamond wing of one of the bees. “He wouldn’t have been in that bar for her to find him, except for you. So yes, thank you for helping him to be _more_.”

Her appreciation made Andrew feel a bit uncomfortable. “I just made him take me out to dinner.”

“Oh no, you’re doing more than that.” She fixed him with an unblinking gaze, the glowing red back in her eyes. “He’s very good at what he does, perhaps the best Death yet. But he needs to remember that part of his job is to balance out life, to understand what it is that he’s ending. He’s always respected it, but until now, I don’t think he’s fully understood everything – until you.”

“I think you’re giving me too much credit,” Andrew insisted, which just made Tisiphone smile some more.

“Am I?” Then she shook her head. “’Laia told me that you accepted this.” She held up the egg. “I’m happy that it has found a proper home at last.” For a moment her expression became filled with grief, then the smile returned, even if it was a bit restrained. “That’s good.”

He scoffed as he picked up the bag of potato chips and opened it. “I’m not sure about that, since I grabbed it to give it as a gift before I realized that it was authentic. Now what am I going to do? My mom’s going to freak if I give it to her.” When Bee realized that the thing was real.

Tisiphone tilted her head to the side. “Why?” she asked, sounding a lot like Neil just then. “If your intentions are true, then give it to her.”

Yep, another idiot – these were the beings who were the ‘powers that be’? No wonder everything was all fucked up. “Because it’s worth how many thousands of dollars?” he pointed out with an exaggerated slowness. “It’s an heirloom that should be in some museum?”

“It was created to bring joy to a person, so it should continue to do that,” Tisiphone countered. “A present for a loved one.” She frowned as she stared at the egg. “The youngest girl called to me, you know, except it was with one of her last breaths. I couldn’t do vengeance as much as revenge for her sake.” Her eyes shone like twin red stars and her lips pulled back from jagged white fangs, yet she still didn’t frighten Andrew. No, Andrew knew that she meant him no harm, that she would tear apart any monster who sought to hurt him.

That she already _had_ torn apart the monster who had hurt him.

“I suppose that explains why it’s such a big mystery with what happened to them, if you wiped out the guys who shot them,” he mused aloud.

Tisiphone hummed again while she opened the egg to study the flower inside. “Yes.” After a few seconds she closed it and set it back on the desk. “So give it to your mother, as she is more than worthy of such a beautiful thing.”

He supposed that he had to do something with the thing, but that was going to be quite the interesting conversation. “Fine. Now enough about the damn egg,” he told her. “I get the feeling that you have something to do with Neil being here, is that true?”

Once more, Tisiphone smiled at him while she tucked back a strand of pale hair behind her left ear. “I merely invited him to stay awhile once our paths crossed.”

“That’s not really an answer,” Andrew snapped. “Are you trying to use him, too?” He felt his rage rush forth anew at the thought. “I don’t care what you are or what you’ve done for me, I won’t let that happen.”

The smile fell away while the Fury’s teeth were exposed once more. “I swear to you that I have no ill intentions toward your Death,” Tisiphone stated, her eyes intent on Andrew. “I mean him nor you any harm. I admit that I am hoping for aid in something, but it will be to both of your benefits, I promise.”

Andrew didn’t know if he liked that last part. “What is it?”

She shook her head, her pale hair flaring for a moment. “No, I cannot say, but know that if you need me, if you are desperate and need a Fury’s strength, all you have to do is call for me.” Her eyes were oddly intent on him for some reason. “If you need a Fury, call my name.”

“I need Pride, dammit, but I’m sure you can be helpful somehow,” Andrew muttered before biting into a chip.

“Hmm, let me check on a few things and I’ll get back to you on that,” Tisiphone told him, her demeanor more relaxed all of a sudden.

Great, so he got to explain an expensive as hell gift to Bee, but he also had a lead on Pride, finally. A bit of a mixed evening, all in all, especially when one threw in Neil’s recent act of stupidity. Wait, Neil- “Hey, you in a hurry to be anywhere?” Andrew asked as he set the bag of chips aside.

The question seemed to confuse the Fury for a moment. “No? At least, not unless I receive a prayer, since Aglaia’s busy at the moment.”

Andrew nodded in understanding as he stood up to fetch his shoes and wallet. “All right, then you can help me out. I need to get something for a certain idiot who doesn’t understand the meaning of ‘heel’ very well. We’re going shopping.”

Tisiphone stood up as well, her hands clasped in front of her and a timorous smile spreading across her face. “You want… you want _me_ to go shopping with you?” She sounded incredulous at first, and beamed when Andrew nodded. “Is this for Death?” She clapped her hands together when he nodded again. “Oh, how _wonderful_! Yes, I will gladly help you!”

Wait until she realized what he was going to buy the idiot, Andrew thought as he slipped on his shoes. Then again, considering she was a Fury… eh, this might actually be amusing.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t given his idiot fair warning.

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, I wonder what Andrew's shopping for there at the end?
> 
> And more Allison! Allison and Renee!!! Renee and Andrew, and Allison and Neil!
> 
> Though I have to say, as a Tokyo Ghoul fan, I felt bad about that scene in Paris....
> 
> And I love Barcelona. *sighs*
> 
> As always, I appreciate the comments and kudos! You all have been great with the response to the fic (and in giving it a chance).  
> *******


	14. Death Gets Collared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I think you know what happens in this chapter. Just saying.  
> *******

*******

As expected, Andrew didn’t get much sleep during the night, but it was worth it to have the wrapped bundle left nestled in his backpack, something to give Neil later in the day. However, at the moment he had something else to pass on so he grabbed the Faberge egg, currently wrapped a plain paper bag, and left his bedroom once he was dressed for the day.

Bee was in the kitchen, still in her robe and bent over the counter as she waited for the coffee to finish brewing. “Good morning,” she called out to Andrew as he approached. “Off to class already?”

“Soon enough.” He figured he might as well get things over with while he had the excuse of fleeing for university and set the bag on the counter before reaching into one of the cupboards for a mug. “Here, I got something for you.”

“Eh? But it’s not even my birthday.” Bee gave him a curious look as she straightened up and grabbed the bag. “This isn’t some sort of bribe as you tell me that you’re dropping out of university and working full time at the coffee shop, is it?”

“No, not quite.” Andrew scowled as he fetched a protein bar from another cupboard and snatched at the pot of coffee just as it finished brewing. “Nothing like that.”

“If you say so.” Bee eyed him for a moment before she reached into the bag to pull out the egg, a pleased smile on her face for a couple of seconds before realization sunk in – by that point, Andrew had finished fixing his coffee. “Wait a minute… is this what I think it is? Tell me it’s a fake or something,” she asked as she glanced between the egg and him.

“I don’t have any papers or shit to prove… eh, what do you call it, providence,” Andrew admitted. “But don’t go hawking it on ebay or some shit.” At least, not for a few measly thousand dollars.

“Oh. My. _God_.” Bee took a few slow, deep breaths as if to calm herself. “It’s one of those Russian eggs-“

“Faberge,” Andrew supplied while opening the wrapper to the protein bar.

_“Dammit_ ,” Bee said in a fervent manner while she set the egg down on the counter, as if terrified of dropping it. “ _How_ did you come across it?” she asked with a mixture of fear and anger.

Yep, things were going just as well as he’d expected. “I didn’t steal it,” he snapped after swallowing a bite of the chewy chocolate bar. “Someone gave it to me.”

Bee’s expression turned contrite as she shook her head. “I didn’t say that, I- oh hell, Andrew, those stones are real, aren’t they? I just… I’m really confused here,” she admitted. “Please explain this to me,” she asked as she grabbed the pot of coffee then a mug.

A bit mollified by the request, Andrew complied after another bite of the protein bar. “All right, so I was out with Neil last night, and we ran into a friend of his – this Allison woman.” That was apparently her ‘human’ name, according to Tisiphone. “She’s dating Natalie, you’ve met her before at the Laughing Fox.” He waited for Bee, who was clutching a mug of coffee as if it was some precious elixir, to nod before he continued. “Anyway, Allison seems to have a lot of money, judging from… well, she’s rich,” Andrew elaborated; there had been that talk of the New York City penthouse, after all. “I got Neil to go along with something she wanted, so she gave me the egg as a ‘thank you’ present.” A rather abbreviated and somewhat distorted version of the truth, but a version of the truth none the less, which was all that mattered to Andrew.

“That’s….” Bee shook her head. “So someone just gave you such an expensive item for helping them out?” She didn’t sound as if she was buying the story, which Andrew counted on – Bee wouldn’t believe anything too pat, not after a few years of living with Nicky, not with all the lies her patients told her. Not when she knew that the truth rarely was wrapped up so neatly.

“I don’t get it myself, and pointed out to Neil and Allison that it was ridiculous once I realized the thing was real,” Andrew admitted. “They just shrugged it off and told me the thing deserves a good home.”

“But….” Bee’s voice faded away as she stared at the egg, at the bees on it and traced a pave flower with her finger. “I got the impression that Neil might be from a wealthy background considering that the puzzle box was an antique and everything, but this is a bit much.” The soft expression on her face hardened as she looked up at Andrew. “They’re not trying to buy you off or… I don’t know, this is just very hard to take in.”

“No,” Andrew scoffed. “I think the only reason they gave me the damn thing was because I expressed an interest in it. They’re weird,” _definitely_ weird, “but I don’t think they’re plotting anything you need to worry about.”

Bee considered something as she stared at the egg for about a minute then put it back in the bag, which was set on the counter with care. “I’ve always been proud of how you’ve done your own thing, how you’re your own person.” Her lips twisted into a sardonic smile for a moment while she grabbed her own mug so she could get some coffee. “There’s been times when it’s been a pain in the ass, you being so _you_ , but it’s reassuring in the end. So I know you can’t be bought by some damn fancy egg.”

“Not quite,” Andrew admitted, while he thought about a pair of big blue eyes and a shaky smile.

“So if you tell me that this thing is legit….” Bee paused to gaze at Andrew over the rim of her mug.

“It is,” he assured her. “I can’t say too much now, but trust me that it is and I’ll tell you everything soon enough.” Once he figured out how to explain his true nature to her, that and Neil.

She continued to stare at him a little longer before she nodded; one of the things he truly appreciated about Bee was how she took him at his word and could move on from things – at least for a while. “Okay then, with that said I’m going to get ready and put this away somewhere safe.” She gave the bag a wry grin. “Though it’s too beautiful to just be shoved in my closet somewhere, I’ll have to think about where I stash it.”

“You could put it in Nicky’s room, since he never seems to use it anymore,” Andrew snarked, which earned him a light smack to the back of his head.

“Now, now, that’s not entirely true,” Bee said as she stepped away with a slight smile. “And he’ll be back soon enough.” Something resembling concern flickered across her face. “He seems to be getting rather serious with Erik, doesn’t he?”

He seemed to be getting rather serious about a lot of things, but Andrew would let the pest explain the magic stuff on his own, since Andrew was in enough trouble with _his_ secrets. “Erik seems decent,” was all he said, which made Bee smile once more.

“For as much as you proclaim to dislike him, you do care about your cousin.” She laughed when Andrew grimaced. “Oh, I’m on to you, mister.” She pointed her right forefinger at him before picking up the egg with evident care so she could take that and the coffee into her bedroom and get ready for the day.

“You’re on _something_ ,” Andrew shot back, which only made Bee laugh some more, and scowled before he finished his own coffee then fixed some more so he could have that while he got ready himself. He ate the rest of the protein bar on the way to his bedroom, and it didn’t take long before he was out the door and off to campus.

He got in another good workout, spending a little more time on the weights than usual as he thought about Deception, and if the amount he lifted garnered some impressive if not incredulous looks… he’d always been on the strong side for his build, but he had to wonder if it was more of that demi-god thing kicking in.

Once he’d showered again and picked up another cup of coffee and some muffins for breakfast, he reviewed a couple of chapters for the day before his classes and received a text from Nicky that he had shown up; the message lacked his cousin’s usual exuberance and over-abundance of emojis. Andrew agreed to meet up after his last class for lunch, then left the common area to head for his first class of the day.

When it came time for lunch, he found Nicky huddled in the corner of one of the university’s cafés pulling a ‘Neil’ in that he was wearing what had to be one of Erik’s hoodies since it was too big on him, something white and soft-looking and probably expensive, the sleeves extending past his hands and the hood pulled down far over his face. It didn’t take long to see that Nicky still bore some ‘backlash’ from the day before, though not as bad as when he’d left the Laughing Fox; it looked like a mild breakout of some sort, his normally clear skin reddened and bearing spots here and there, his eyes swollen and red as well.

“Huh, you’ve looked better,” Andrew said as he set first his tray containing several slices of pizza and a bottle of soda down first, then his backpack before he sat across from Nicky. “But you’ve also looked worse.”

“Thanks,” Nicky muttered; all he had was a bottle of water and an unwrapped tuna salad sandwich for himself. “I appreciate the sympathy _so_ much.”

Andrew debated on how much longer he wanted things to drag out and decided it was best to just get the shit over and done with before he strangled the pest. “Hey, you were the one who brought it all on yourself,” he reminded Nicky before he picked up a slice of pizza and started eating, his expression cold.

“What?” Nicky’s head shot up and he gawked at Andrew for a couple of seconds. “You know about- how? I mean… fuck.” He went to rub at his face and then stopped while he cursed softly in Spanish. “You know about the magic stuff? About Abby?” he asked when Andrew was mostly done with the one slice. “I mean, not the small stuff but it being real?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Andrew said as he switched into German. “ _I know you fucked up yesterday, that you dosed people without their consent and deserved everything that happened if not more_.” Nicky flinched at that but, to give the pest credit, gave a slow nod.

“ _I thought… I thought it was just something small, that it would be fine if it made them happy_.”

“ _No_ ,” Andrew argued as he fought to control his temper, the fire inside of him, which caused Nicky to stare at him with wide dark eyes as if seeing him properly for the first time. “ _You **don’t** think, you never do. You simply do what you want, like always_.” He didn’t know if Luther had broken something in Nicky, had made him uncaring about the consequences because he’d pushed Nicky too far, or if there was just something that calloused in his cousin, something that made him unable to see when he hurt other people with his need to have what he wanted.

Nicky drew in a shuddering breath and shook his head fast enough to make the deep hood slip back a little, his expression one of denial. “ _No, I don’t, I-“_ When Andrew continued to glare at him, his expression crumpled and tears welled in his eyes. “ _I… okay, I messed up. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to, I just... I talked to Abby a little about it last night, Abby and Erik. They’re going to help me.”_ He let out another slow, shaky breath. “ _They’re going to help me_.”

“ _You need it_ ,” Andrew said before picking up another slice of pizza, then relented a little. “ _But you can’t be totally helpless if they’re willing to take you on._ ” That made Nicky smile and wipe at the tears with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“So, uhm… you?” Nicky blinked at Andrew. “Abby told me some stuff about my mom which, ah, makes me rethink a lot of things with my dad in a new light, and oh my fucking god, I have to tell you about Erik!” Then he glanced around the large room as he picked up his neglected sandwich. “Later.”

Andrew shrugged and spoke in English as well. “Let’s just say that my grandfather on my dad’s side was something special.” He didn’t want to get into it too much just then in any language, and agreed that it could wait until ‘later’.

“Special?” Nicky’s eyes widened some more as he looked Andrew up and down. “Huh, I think I might know… okay.” He appeared thoughtful as he had a couple bites. “Again, I spent a good bit of the night thinking about things, about my dad and mom and-“ He shook his head as sadness dulled his usually animated features. “You think it’s why the family is so messed up? _I_ think it’s why he was such a bastard to me, why he – well, why he did everything he could to force me to be just like him. Why he treated my mom like he did.” Anger flashed over Nicky’s face as he set the sandwich down. “I can’t comprehend how she let him treat her like that if she had all that power.”

Andrew thought about everything Nicky had told him about the Hemmicks and had to unclench his fingers. “Maybe. Probably.” Luther Hemmick sounded like an asshole who had to be in charge, who wouldn’t allow anything to sully his mental image of perfection – a very narrow, unrealistic image at that. What he wanted to know was did Tilda know about her sister-in-law? If she did, had she known what Andrew’s father had been? Had she known that her children were possible demi-gods?

Had she known about Andrew? Was that why she’d given just him up?

He hated the thought that he’d been abandoned by some random twist of fate, that he’d had to suffer so much because the bitch who had given birth to him had decided to keep just one of her offspring, had tossed him aside for some obscure reason (had he cried too much? Not enough? Been second born? Flip of a coin? Eenie Meanie Minie Moe?), but what if it was that she’d somehow sensed that he wasn’t entirely human.

Such _good_ Christians, the Hemmicks/Minyards.

“But it doesn’t matter,” he continued. “We don’t have anything to do with them anymore, right?” He stared at Nicky until his cousin managed a slight grin and nodded. “They made it clear what they think of us, and I don’t give a shit about them.”

For a moment Nicky’s expression wavered, and then he nodded again as his eyes narrowed. “You’re right. I kept hoping that one day I could go back, could make them accept me but not after talking to Abby, after realizing just how much I’d have to give up and change.” He reached for something inside of hoodie, which turned out to be a necklace similar the one which Abby wore, a silver pentacle. “Not after realizing just how much is out there for me.”

“If you don’t fuck it up,” Andrew reminded his cousin. “I don’t think you’ll get off with a few boils next time.”

“Andrew!” Nicky whined, but he didn’t let go of the necklace. “I get it, I was stupid!” For once he didn’t try to grin things away or pull the puppy eyes, he appeared resolved as he met Andrew’s eyes. “I won’t! Or at least, I’m going to try not to, I promise.” Then he did the silly grin. “Erik told me he’ll make sure I don’t. Oh my god, he is so amazing! Do you know he’s-“ Fortunately, he caught himself in time. “Uhm, yeah, he’s _amazing_.”

Andrew just rolled his eyes at that while he sipped his soda and wished that he’d gotten a coffee drink instead, since it had been a really long night. Oh well, he’d just have to filch a few from Neil once they got at the shop, which would be soon enough.

As if thinking along the same lines of him, Nicky finished his sandwich and grinned at Andrew. “So, how are things going with you and Neil, hmm? Which, uhm, okay, I’ll ask about him later, too, he has to be-“ Andrew’s glare made him falter and shut up, since they definitely weren’t talking about the idiot just then.

“Things are fine,” Andrew said while Nicky gave a nervous laugh. He wasn’t about to go into the shit that had happened the night before, not when it had been partially resolved. Not when he didn’t want Nicky involved with that stuff, with Deception and Destruction.

They finished their lunches and did a bit of homework before they left for the Laughing Fox, with Andrew mindful of the ‘present’ inside of his backpack the entire time. Nicky became a bit more talkative when they got in the car, going on about his plans with Erik for the weekend, which seemed to involve them going out for dinner a lot and him spending most of his time off at the light elf’s apartment. Andrew would go out on a ledge and say that it appeared that things were growing serious between the two, that Nicky was past the ‘infatuation’ stage. Yet Neil didn’t seem concerned and if Abby was involved… well, maybe for once he didn’t have to worry too much about the pest.

They reached the Laughing Fox to find Matt’s truck in the parking lot and Neil waiting for him in front of the shop, an anxious look on the idiot’s face. Andrew waved Nicky in ahead of him, which the pest did after grinning.

“So, you’re still alive,” Andrew drawled as he came to a halt a few feet away from the idiot. “Imagine that.”

Neil took to tugging on his bangs while he sighed. “I already apologized about that,” he said with a bit of a snappish tone. “I only went with Temperance because he-“ he stopped to sigh. “He wanted to talk to me, nothing more.”

“Then it shouldn’t have been a big deal for me to go along with you,” Andrew insisted.

“Sometimes it’s easier to discuss things alone.” Neil stared at nothing in particular in front of him for a moment before he shook his head. “I believe he wanted to let me know that he was… that he couldn’t be trusted in the future, that Deception managed to lay a sigil on him.” He rubbed at his chest as his expression grew bleak. “It was a warning as much as a message.”

Andrew closed the distance between them as he grabbed at Neil’s hand, his hold gentle yet insistent. “Which is why you’re to _never_ go off alone with him again, understand?”

Neil stared at him for several seconds, his gaze unblinking and his eyes filled with silver, before he closed his eyes and bowed his head, his left hand rising to rest against the center of Andrew’s chest after a moment’s hesitation. “All right,” he breathed out. “I understand.” His fingers pressed against the outside of Andrew’s heart. “I think… it’s good, that you have my name,” he admitted in a quiet voice. “My old name.”

Andrew’s left hand rose up to slide along the nape of Neil’s neck and pulled him close. “I’m not letting him touch you again,” he promised. “He can threaten as much as he likes, but he’ll never hurt you again.”

“I-“ Neil let out a slow breath as he bowed his head some more, until their foreheads touched. “I don’t want him to hurt you to get to me.”

“He won’t.” Andrew gave his idiot’s nape a gentle squeeze. “As long as you don’t leave any openings, we’ll both be fine.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Neil breathed out as his held hand hovered in front of Andrew; after a slight nod from him, it rested against his chest as well once he let it go. “Though… I _am_ sorry for last night.”

“Don’t leave on your own again and it’ll be fine,” Andrew said as he pulled Neil a little closer; all those hours of being angry, of mentally cursing out the idiot, and just having Neil in front of him like this safe and sound made him feel… well, it made him feel all twisted up inside, but in a good way. Neil glanced at him through his thick eyelashes, his gaze hesitant, and Andrew found himself meeting his idiot halfway for a brief yet energizing kiss. “Now come on, time for you to fail at making coffee.” He was pleased to note that he didn’t sound out of breath at all.

Neil made a faint whining sound as he pulled away. ‘Compa- ah, Matt fights ghouls for Dan, you know,” he told Andrew as he stepped toward the door while tugging at his hood, his tone rather annoyed. “Yet all you do is mock my ability to make coffee and steal my drinks, I don’t understand this ‘attraction’ thing at all.”

Hmm, that ghoul thing sounded fun, if a bit too much work – maybe something to consider after a day of dealing with one too many asshole customers, Andrew told himself. For the moment, though, he had his amusement in the form of one gorgeous sulking idiot.

Matt appeared to be paying attention to them as they walked into the shop, and grinned at the way that Neil stomped toward the back room to clock in while Nicky, still wearing Erik’s hoodie beneath his work t-shirt, laughed at the two of them. Andrew managed to catch another kiss back by the lockers, one where Neil glared at him at first but gave a low moan when he stepped away clock in.

“I never thought Desire could be so cruel,” Neil muttered as he followed Andrew out to the front room, his expression a bit dark as he tied on his apron.

That, from the man (or whatever) who didn’t ‘swing’ – or at least, hadn’t a short while ago. Andrew still didn’t understand why it was that Neil found him attractive, but as long as the idiot did indeed seem to want him and to work on things between them, then he was going to push aside all of his doubts and work on his own issues while he kept his promise to protect Neil. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Plus, Neil was just so damn fun when he fought to keep his temper in check when Andrew stole yet another drink.

It was busy in the Laughing Fox since it was a Friday afternoon, Neil was unable to do more than mutter a few insults at Andrew and glower while he scrambled to keep up with the drink queue, which was steady thanks to all of the customers streaming in. Nicky got asked a few questions about his appearance, which seemed to help drive home Abby's lesson, and it was a good tip day what with the pest garnering some sympathy and Matt smiling at everyone.

During one of the lulls, Andrew felt a now familiar sense of power right before he heard a quiet voice ask for some chamomile tea, and nudged a suddenly still Neil in the side. "I got this," he told his friend.

"Uhm, okay." Neil took a deep breath and turned around to blink at Tisiphone, who was smiling at the both of them from the other side of the counter, while Matt gave her a wary look as if she would take him down at any moment and Nicky grinned.

"We haven't seen you in a while," he told the Fury. "Off having fun?"

"Hmm, you could say that," she said as she handed him a five dollar bill and waved aside the change. "I've been hanging out with my girlfriend."

Nicky's eyes went wide at that and then his grin grew bigger. "Ooh, you have to come by another time toward the end of my shift and give me all the juicy details! She has to be special to nab a sweetheart like you." Beside him, Matt seemed to choke on something.

Meanwhile, Neil approached the counter. "She is indeed _something_." He nodded at Tisiphone. "It is nice to see you again."

"It's always a pleasure to see you." Her smile grew brighter and Andrew noticed that her eyes glanced at his neck for a moment as he brought over her tea. "I'm glad that you're doing so well here."

"I would be doing better if a certain churl didn't steal so many of my drinks," Neil complained while tugging on his hood.

"I'm saving the customers from your many, many failures," Andrew insisted. "He'll get it right someday, maybe," he told Tisiphone. "But I'm not holding my breath on it being any day soon."

She laughed a little as she accepted her tea, which made Matt gape at her for some reason, and Neil attempt to stomp on Andrew's foot, which Andrew dodged with ease. "It's so kind of you to put up with him."

"Don't feed his delusions," Neil muttered. "They are numerous and overwhelming."

"Look who's talking," Andrew shot back.

"Oh, the two of you get along even better than I imagined," Tisiphone proclaimed with evident delight. "Aren't they perfect for each other?" she asked Matt.

The Virtue gave a nervous chuckle at the question. "Uh... yeah?" He took a step back when Neil glared at him. "Come on, who was sulking all night long, worried that you wouldn't be forgiven?" He let out a rather high-pitched sound for a man his size and scrambled to hide behind Nicky of all people when Neil's glare intensified. "Ooops?"

Neil radiated his 'Death' aspect for a moment before he turned around and stalked back to the espresso machine, while Matt did his best to huddle behind a stunned Nicky and Tisiphone continued to smile as if greatly amused. "You didn't give it to him yet?" she asked Andrew before he could go after his idiot.

"No, not yet." He planned to do it after their shift, when they were alone.

"Eh? Give him what?" Matt asked as he took a cautious step away from Nicky.

"Something to help him remember a simple instruction or two," was all Andrew said before he waved at Tisiphone, who took her tea with her to one of the smaller tables.

As the Fury sat down and pulled a book out of her bag, Andrew snatched a brownie from the display case and munched on it while leaning against the counter near Neil, who was being a good employee and cleaning things.

"You know about her," he said after about a minute, when Andrew had finished eating.

"She stopped by to chat last night," Andrew confessed. "Have to admit I was a little annoyed to realize she's been watching over me all these years, that she was right there in front of me the last couple of them, but...." He gave a slight shrug as he gazed out across the front room to watch Tisiphone read while she sipped her tea, her mostly white hair falling down to hide her face. "For some reason it's difficult to be angry at her for very long, especially when I know what she did for me."

Neil was quiet for a few seconds while he wiped the counter clean. "It's not easy for her, her or her sisters. Most of our kind... they don't want to associate with her because of what she does, because not only is her job vengeance but it's also justice." He paused to look up at Andrew. "There's a chance that she may come for them for one of those things if they break a rule or cross a line."

Andrew thought about that for a moment. "You don't seem afraid of her, though."

"No." Neil gave a sad smile. "I have no issue with what she does, and some of my responsibilities are similar to hers. There is... an understanding between us."

Andrew thought about their conversations on power, on paying the price for things, on responsibility and rules and everything else. It was clear that Neil took his obligations seriously, which was something that Andrew more than understood as well.

"Does she talk to cats, too?" he asked after a brief span of quiet.

"Ah, sometimes?" Neil frowned a little before he bent down to check the one mini-fridge. "Do you have something against cats?

"They're gossipy little shits?" Andrew said while he crossed his arms over his chest, amused as always to torment Neil.

"No, they are _not_!" Neil insisted as he slammed a fresh gallon of milk onto the counter with a bit too much force. "You're thinking of... _oh_." He seemed to catch on to the fact that Andrew was teasing him. "That's not nice," he mumbled while he stood up, his expression that of an adorable pout.

"And people fear you," Andrew sneered as he tugged at the edge of his left arm band. “Pathetic.”

"Uncouth _Runknisse_ ," Neil shot back as he began to refill the various containers.

"Idiot." Andrew felt a bit of satisfaction when annoyance flashed across Neil's face, but the shop became busy once again so there was the end of his fun for the time being. Well, except when he stole another drink or two.

As soon as their shift ended, Andrew was quick to latch on to Neil's hood and give it a tug. "Come on, I want to talk to you."

Neil looked at him for a couple of seconds before he nodded. "Are we going to dinner?"

"Sure." As long as they were alone and Neil didn't go off with any asshole stalkers, that was fine. The main thing was that Andrew wanted a bit of privacy without anyone interrupting them.

“All right.” Neil nodded again and went over to Matt, probably to say that he wouldn’t be going home with his friend, so Andrew headed back to drop off his apron, clock out and grab his bag. Nicky caught up with him back there with a nervous smile on his face.

“Look, Erik’s picking me up, but I’ll be home tomorrow morning. Maybe we can talk then?”

Andrew regarded his cousin for a few seconds before he nodded. “Yes.” Better to ‘talk’ sooner rather than later, especially considering how much of an idiot Nicky could act when he got all anxious. “Don’t do anything around Bee that’ll make me want to stab you, got it?” he warned the pest. “Like open your mouth or another ‘taste test’.” He glared as he spoke, and Nicky had the grace to squirm as he got the point.

“I- look, I said I learned my lesson,” Nicky mumbled as he ran his right hand through his hair. “And it’s _Bee_ , I’d never harm her, she’s one of the best things to ever happen to me, her and you and Erik.”

It was good that the moron knew where to draw the line on some things. “Well, I just remember all those times when you swore you’d keep a secret, and not even half a day later….”

Nicky grimaced. “Well, it’s _Bee_ , you know how she is,” he whined; Andrew had to admit Nicky had a bit of a point himself. “But Abby talked to me when I first started about why it was so important to not tell people about, well, you know, so I’m not going to break down even if she starts the whole Spanish Inquisition routine.”

Andrew huffed a little at their old joke for Bee’s method of dragging shit out of people, and saved the comment about how Abby clearly hadn’t told Nicky not to try any potions on people – she probably hadn’t, just to test Nicky.

“Whatever, just be calm for once in your life and I’ll see you tomorrow,” Andrew told his cousin before he clocked out Neil as well, and passed Matt along on his way out front; the Virtue was carrying some aprons and what looked to be a t-shirt in his hand. When Andrew got up front, he found Neil waiting for him by the front door, minus his apron and work t-shirt.

“So does Matt really take care of you?” he asked as he motioned to Neil’s dark grey long-sleeved t-shirt; it took a moment for his friend to get the reference.

“No?” Neil tugged on the front of his shirt as they left the shop. “Matt and Dan are doing laundry tonight, so it is a good thing that I am not there.” At Andrew’s curious look, Neil shook his head. “Matt is of the belief that you merely throw them in a machine, dump some concoction inside and then push buttons to make them clean. After knowing him for so long, I have endured enough instances where his ‘beliefs’ have turned into disasters, so Dan can deal with him.” His expression just then was rather… Andrew believed it was best described as ‘disgusted’.

“Oh, such as?”

Neil made a rough growling sound as he rubbed at his forehead. “The belief that he can calm down an angry mob – that was on multiple occasions, and no, it _never_ worked, not when he tried logic, not when he tried sympathy, not when he tried the whole ‘oh, look at the magic I can do’ _in front of people about to burn a witch I might add.”_ Neil closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths as if to center himself after that one. “His unnatural fascination with siege engines which has cost him a hand on several occasions and resulted in- uhm, yes, I’m not supposed to speak about Ostend, my mistake.” Neil blushed a little and looked aside as they climbed into Andrew’s car. “Uhm, the firearms,” he groaned. “I really do regret the day when mortals invented gunpowder.” His expression was now somewhere between exhausted and exasperated. “I don’t want to go on any further.”

All right, maybe it wasn’t a simple case of Matt and Dan looking after Neil. Andrew thought about that while he started the car and amended the thought. Maybe it wasn’t a simple case of _Matt_ looking after Neil – he was beginning to suspect that Dan put up with a lot.

“So you’re saying that tonight’s going to be a disaster,” Andrew summed up as he pulled out into traffic.

“Ah, yes.” Neil’s teeth bit into his bottom lip as he huddled into the passenger seat of the Nissan. “Yes it is, unless Dan takes over.”

Again, beings who had been around for how many centuries, who traveled around the world with a mere thought, and they were so fucked up it was pathetic. Andrew shook his head as he continued driving, while Neil shifted about in the seat to look at him. “Uhm, where are we going?”

“We’ll pick up something and then go to my house,” Andrew said. “Not in the mood to hang out with a bunch of people.” Weird and pathetic ones at that.

“Okay.” Neil didn’t appear upset with that, in fact he gave up gnawing on his bottom lip to smile a little, and the rest of the drive to the supermarket near Andrew’s home was quiet. Once they reached the store, Andrew went to the prepared food section for a large pan of cheese lasagna which would only need to be heated up, and picked up some garlic bread as well. “You’re still paying,” he told Neil, who merely shook his head and didn’t complain. When they passed a display of wine on sale, Andrew was a bit surprised to see Neil grab two bottles of red wine; he supposed that his friend had fake ID considering that… well, considering _everything_ , but Neil certainly didn’t look like he was twenty-one years old even if he was more than old enough to drink. Hell, he barely looked old enough to be eighteen.

Yet when they reached the register with the food and alcohol, all Neil did was give the cashier an even look with a slight gleam of silver in his eyes, and the middle-aged woman rang everything up without glancing at him – him or Andrew. In fact, it was a good thing Neil had his debit card and Andrew could talk him through on how to use it, because he didn’t think the woman would be able to handle taking money from the idiot and giving him back his change.

“You’re fun to have around for parties,” Andrew commented as they left the store.

“Yes, that’s why there’s so many stories about me ruining them,” Neil said with a distinctly sour tone of voice. “I merely show up to do my job, I’m not the person using the poison or doing the stabbing or throttling or shooting or bombing. That one time with the elephants was interesting, though.” Then he seemed to think about it as he handed Andrew the bag with the lasagna to be put in the back of the car. “Well, not for the poor elephants, they were rather upset about everything, but it was something different for once.”

Andrew stared at his friend for a couple of seconds before clicking his tongue. “I’m beginning to see why you don’t do small talk.” Except with cats – they probably had a grand old time talking to each other, the furballs going on about all the birds and mice they killed recently and Neil talking about all the dead people he’d dealt with that day.

Suddenly it all made sense. Also, Neil should have grabbed more than two bottles of wine.

Neil seemed a little anxious when they got to the house, at least until Andrew assured him that Bee was out at some work event and shouldn’t be back for a few more hours. Andrew set his backpack in his bedroom (if he’d known for certain that he’d bring Neil there, he could have left the gift at home) and then got the lasagna heating up in the oven and the bread in the toaster oven. He’d poured them each a glass of wine and noticed that Neil had wandered off; he found his idiot in the living room, standing in front of the one curio cabinet filled with a bunch of Bee’s knickknacks… and the Faberge egg.

“Huh, she put it out after all,” Andrew said as he handed Neil a glass.

“Yes.” Neil smiled as he held his left hand up near the egg, mindful not to touch the glass; around it were a few of the crystal figurines that Bee collected. Most were in her office at work, but Andrew and Nicky had added enough to the collection over the years that she kept some of the more ‘personal’ ones at home. “It’s where it should be, with a family.”

“It was created for a king,” Andrew argued. “Emperor, czar, whatever you want to call him.”

Neil shook his head. “It was created as a gift for a loved one.” Neil’s eyes flared star-bright for a moment. “For a child who loved to run around in the gardens.” His eyes returned to their normal pale blue as he smiled at Andrew, the expression touched by sadness. “There was so much beauty lost during those dark years. I’m glad some of it has resurfaced and found a new home.”

Andrew had to wonder at just how much ‘beauty’ Neil had seen, all the wonders of art and architecture, then watched as humans had destroyed it with their wars and ignorance. “Well, with a bit of luck everyone will think it’s a fake.” He reached out to tug on Neil’s hood. “Now drink your wine and come with me.”

“Okay.” Neil took a sip of the red wine while he followed Andrew to the bedroom, quiet on his feet the entire time. Once in the small room, he went to sit at the desk like last time, until Andrew motioned to the bed. Neil didn’t appear uncomfortable about the request, just mindful to hold on to his glass as he sat down.

“I got something for you,” Andrew said as he reached into his backpack for the item he’d bought while out with Tisiphone. She’d then helped him to… ‘enhance’ the item, mindful of what had happened earlier that night. “I want you to wear it.”

“All right.” Neil appeared curious as he set the glass aside and accepted the gift wrapped in a plain white bag, then drew in a sharp breath when his fingers grasped it. “What- it’s-“

“Tisiphone helped me with it,” Andrew explained as Neil unwrapped the item to reveal a black leather collar with a silver buckle and a silver key dangling from it; the Fury had explained to him that in order for the spells to work, he needed something personal on the collar, something that had meaning to him – the more important, the better. After giving the matter some thought, he went with a key that Bee had given him for the new lock on his bedroom door, the first time anyone had done such a thing for him, the first time he’d truly felt safe somewhere. He hadn’t felt the need to lock the thing in years and Bee had given him both copies of the key as a show of faith and trust, and now Neil had one of them.

While Neil held the collar in his hands, his eyes glowing brilliant once more, Andrew continued. “It’s so I can always find you if Deception or Destruction get their hands on you, so I can track you down. There’s also some protection spells woven into it.” He didn’t understand everything that Tisiphone had said as she’d talked him through the castings, but it would help him keep Neil safe and not lose his idiot. The whole collar thing had started out as a bit of a joke, but really, it was something that Neil could wear all of the time which was what mattered. It was something Andrew could use to find Neil in the future, since Matt and Dan had told him the idiot was all but untraceable by anyone who wasn’t blood, such as Wrath. Such as Destruction.

“You like cats so much, now put the damn thing on and keep it on, all right?” Andrew glared at him as he motioned to the thing, a slight scowl on his face as he did his best not to show how anxious he was over Neil’s reaction to it. How anxious he was over Neil accepting everything he meant with the damn thing, how serious he was about keeping him safe.

The idiot just sat there doing his unmoving thing for several seconds, and then let out a slow breath. “I can feel your aspect in this, it’s very warm.” He finally looked up at Andrew, his eyes pure silver and expression blank, then his lips curved into a slight smile. “Are you sure you don’t have a neck fetish?”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed as he shoved the collar against the idiot’s chest. “I should have gotten a matching gag to go with it.”

“Hmm.” Still, Neil raised the collar to his neck and slipped it on; as soon as it was fastened, Andrew leaned in and, once Neil nodded, he cast a ward around the buckle so no one but him or Neil could remove it. While he did that, Neil toyed with the silver key. “Thank you.” The words came out in a solemn tone, a stark contrast to the joke spoken moments before.

“Don’t do anything stupid to make the thing necessary,” Andrew chided the idiot even as his right hand reached out to rest around the collar, his fingers on the nape of Neil’s neck. “I will be very annoyed if you do.”

“Perhaps you should work on that patience and temper of yours,” Neil suggested as he looked up at Andrew, a hint of a smile on his lips and his eyes back to normal.

“And perhaps you should work on being less of an idiot – we’ll see who’s more successful,” Andrew muttered as he leaned in a bit closer. “Yes or no?”

“Yes,” Neil answered, his voice little more than a whisper. “It’s always ‘yes’.”

Andrew scoffed at that, then was too busy kissing his idiot to argue; for a moment he hesitated while he hovered in front of Neil, then he gave in and slowly straddled Neil’s thighs. The action produced a low, pleased moan from his friend (he probably should stop thinking of him like that), and when Neil’s hands twitched where they rested on the bed, Andrew gathered his courage to pick them up and raise them to either side of his head.

“Just there,” he breathed out against Neil’s lips as he pulled away the tiniest of amounts. “Above my shoulders.”

Neil blinked at him in confusion, his eyes once more pure silver, then his eyelids fluttered shut as his fingers slid into Andrew’s hair and his lips parted open in a slight smile. Andrew took advantage of that to deepen the kiss, to slide the fingers of his left hand into the tousled mess which was Neil’s hair while his right hand skimmed lightly along Neil’s spine, and felt such a strong spike of _want_ when a needy groan was Neil’s response.

Neil shivered beneath his fingers, was smooth, cool skin beneath his lips as Andrew kissed his way along the idiot’s jaw and down to the new collar. Neil was so responsive and noisy, was breathy moans and gasps, mumbled words in unfamiliar languages as his fingers clenched and unclenched in Andrew’s hair but never too tight. His power flared but it wasn’t frightening, wasn’t unnerving – not when Andrew burned so hot with want and need and a desire to take all of Neil, to pull him close to keep him safe forever.

He sucked hard on cool skin right above the collar to leave a mark for everyone to see then did it again while Neil gasped out his name, and only then was able to pull away enough for another kiss while he rocked his hips forward, rocked them into Neil’s and provoked a mewl-like sound which he swallowed. His fingers dug into the space between Neil’s shoulder blades as he-

As there was a beeping sound from his phone to remind him to take the lasagna out of the oven, which startled him enough that he half jumped off of Neil’s lap – and nearly fell onto the floor when Neil partially did his disappearing trick. “ _Don’t_!,” Andrew shouted while he fumbled to stand up.

Face flushed and expression chagrined, Neil stopped shimmering and tugged at his bangs. “Sorry,” he murmured as he blinked hard a couple of times until his eyes returned to normal. “Uhm, what… your phone?”

“The damn lasagna,” Andrew muttered as he grabbed his phone out of his pocket to turn off the alarm – and adjust himself in his pants without being too noticeable about it. That had been… okay, ‘carried away’ was a bit of an understatement, but he could honestly say that he never wanted anyone before like he did Neil. That he never trusted himself with anyone before like he did Neil. “Come on, before it burns.”

“All right.” Neil grabbed their wine glasses as they left the room, the key swinging from him bending down, and Andrew felt a rush of _something_ at the sight of both the collar and the darkening bruises above it. Something like possessiveness and smugness and perhaps a bit of amazement that Neil had gone along with accepting the thing.

The garlic bread was a little darker than he normally liked after sitting in the toaster oven for so long but still edible, while the lasagna was fine, so he put everything on top of the stove and grabbed some plates so they could help themselves. Of course Neil didn’t eat too much, but he at least had more than a few bites and some wine while Andrew ate. More than that, he sat there and smiled during their dinner, sat there and listened to Andrew talk about growing up in the house since Andrew owed him some stories – about Andrew and Bee figuring out how to make the place a home between the two of them, and then Nicky showing up out of the blue one day.

“Your mother is a remarkable woman to take him in like that,” Neil said from his seat at the table while Andrew got up to fetch some ice cream for himself.

“To be honest, I think at first she was willing to give him a place to stay for a few weeks while she figured out some halfway house or program which could take him in.” Andrew shrugged as he pried off the lid to the dark chocolate and fudge brownie chunk ice cream to show that he wouldn’t have argued about the arrangement – at least, not at the time. He hadn’t been happy to find out that he’d had family on the East Coast who’d known about him, who could have taken him in years ago and saved him so much pain, who had given him up on purpose while keeping his twin brother. “Then she realized that he was almost as much a mess as me and he became another pet project, another broken soul she was determined to fix.”

Neil gave him a knowing smile and picked up his wine glass, which was mostly empty. “And what about you? You didn’t object to her decision?”

Andrew narrowed his eyes at the smug idiot and sat back down. “It’s her house, she can do what she wants.” Before Neil could say anything else, he slumped down in his chair to kick the idiot’s ankle. “No, he’d been thrown away by the same pricks who hadn’t wanted me, so it was only fitting we took him in. He’s a pain in the ass most days, but he’s _our_ pain in the ass.”

“I’m sure he appreciates it,” Neil murmured before he finished the wine.

For the most part? Yes, Nicky did. They had given Nicky a home and a place to be his true self, so he did. It was just that Nicky often went to extremes at times, such as him handing out the potion at the Laughing Fox and throwing himself at people. “One hopes,” was all Andrew said before having more ice cream.

“You’re lucky, to have such a home.” Neil’s expression was wistful as he glanced around. “To have a place for the three of you.”

Andrew considered that expression and the tone of longing in Neil’s voice as he had some more ice cream. “Did you… well, where is your home? It’s not that apartment, is it?”

Neil was quiet for a moment as he stared into his empty wine glass. “There’s… we have our own abodes, places that are… hmm.” He paused for a moment. “Pocket universes? Places that are ‘aside’?” He gave Andrew a wan smile for a moment. “You need to go _between_ to get to them, and they are as we make them. My father’s is very grand, as befitting a powerful Named One, but it’s also very cold.” His eyes grew shadowed and his smile slipped away. “My mother’s was more informal, but we couldn’t go back there once she took me and ran from my father. We never stayed in one place very long, after we ran from him.”

It was quiet again after that, while Andrew ate his ice cream and Neil resumed staring into his empty glass despite the fact that there was still some left in one of the bottles on the table. “So what about your own abode?”

“It’s there.” Neil gave a slight shrug. “I stay there from time to time, but mostly I work.” Now the smile returned, if only a little. “Or I did.”

So the apartment with Dan and Matt was probably the closest thing to a home the idiot had in the longest time. No wonder Matt was making such an effort, Andrew thought, even if he was a moron about a lot of things. “Well, how about I trade you Dan for Nicky? Somehow I think she won’t leave such a mess in the kitchen or come home drunk all the time.”

Despite whatever issues Neil had with Dan – her being his ‘not mother’ – he scoffed and shook his head, his strange mood broken. “I think not, I’ve listened to you complain about your cousin too much to let you inflict him upon me.”

“Well, don’t complain if you have to ‘work’ and come collect him someday soon,” Andrew warned as he poured the last of the wine into his glass now that the ice cream was gone.

Neil’s smile strengthened a little more. “How would someone as lazy as you go about such a thing? Feed him your daily allotment of sweets and let him pass away from a diabetic coma?”

“So funny,” Andrew drawled s he flung his spoon across the table, which Neil caught of course. “Why can’t I be one of those people who can’t seem to see you?”

“Why indeed?” Neil reached up to tug on the key and appeared ready to spout some more nonsense when there was the sound of the front door opening.

“Andrew? You’re home?”

“Yeah.” Andrew went to grab the bottle of wine but Neil beat him to it and then it just... vanished, which hmm, helpful talent the idiot had. Neil did the same with the other one while Andrew took their dishes to the sink, and was munching on a piece of garlic bread when Bee came into the kitchen, appearing a bit tired and dressed for a day at the office.

Her brown eyes narrowed when she spotted Neil at the kitchen table, then noticed Andrew rinsing off the dishes while chewing on a bite of garlic bread. “Hello.”

“Good evening,” Neil wished her with a slight nod.

“We grabbed something to eat,” Andrew told her after he swallowed. “Still something left if you didn’t have enough at the work thing.”

“Tricia’s acceptance into grad school,” Bee said. “There were snacks at the bar, so thanks.” She came over to give him a kiss on the cheek, which he tolerated, and then she once more looked at Neil. “You guys up to anything in particular tonight?” He noticed how she had spotted Neil’s new accessory, but being Bee, she wasn’t saying anything. Correction, she wasn’t saying anything _yet_.

“Andrew heated up food for me to eat,” Neil offered up. “After he once again slandered my ability to make drinks and stole from his employer.”

“In other words, same old, same old,” Andrew said as he put the plates in the dishwasher while Bee shook her head in amusement. “I’m going to take a certain unfiltered idiot home.”

“Okay.” Bee shrugged off her dark blue blazer before grabbing a clean plate. “You going to be back anytime soon or should I just lock up before going to bed?”

He rolled his eyes at her. “I’m just dropping him off so I won’t be long.” He had stuff to do before his shift tomorrow, so best to not be out too late that night.

“Well, it was nice to see you again, Neil,” Bee told their quiet guest, her eyes once more focused on the collar while Neil wished her a good night. Andrew gave it another run-in or two with his idiot before she brought it up, and oh wasn’t _that_ going to be fun.

“Your mother… uhm, I believe I’m supposed to say that she’s very nice?” Neil said as they left the house, his brows furrowed as he clearly struggled with what to say next.

“Don’t worry, I know that she’s great but yeah, she’s intense as hell,” Andrew explained. At least, she was when it came to her ‘family’.

“That’s… yes, that works.” Neil nodded as he got into the car. “It’s an adequate description.”

Still, Andrew felt a rare warmth in his chest over that fact and refused to smile as he thought about Bee and how protective she was over him and still watching over him after all these years.

*******

Death smiled as they pulled up to the apartment building. "You want to come in to see how the, uhm, laundry turned out, don’t you?" he asked when it was clear that Andrew was getting out of the vehicle as well.

Andrew gave him a blank look as he closed the door. "Sure."

It took Death a moment to notice that his friend was standing a bit close to him once he was on the sidewalk and was busy glancing around. "Temperance isn't going to come talk to me again," he sighed. At least, not right away.

"I'm not worried about him," Andrew said as he slid an arm around Death's waist in a distinctly protective manner. "He delivered a message, there had to be a reason for it." Red flared in his almost golden eyes as he gave Death a pointed look. "Don't do anything stupid, and don't go anywhere by yourself."

"Why you keep thinking that I do anything stupid?" Death was rather annoyed by that - he was millennia old, one of the most powerful Named Ones, and here he was given grief by an uppity, obnoxious demi-god? Truly, what _had_ he done to the Fates?

"Oh, perhaps because you let some asshole carve half a sigil into you the last time you ran into each other and then you went off with his henchman - _alone_." Andrew's eyes were burning like twin bonfires when he yanked open the door to the apartment building. "You're an idiot."

" _Tu me fais chier_ ,” Death spat at the churl, yet all Andrew did was give him a slight smile and reach over to tug on the key dangling from his neck.

"Hmm, don't get me so worked up, not when I can't stay too long. Save it for Sunday."

Death blinked in confusion over that, mind busy trying to figure out what had just happened, and that was when they came out onto the third floor. A very _wet_ third floor, as there were puddles on the carpet in the hallway, an astringent odor in the air and an 'out of order' sign on the one room near the stairwell which Death had never bothered to go into since it wasn't the apartment.

Andrew took it all in then huffed in what sounded to be amusement. "I think it's clear that Matt did the laundry."

"I don't understand why he's always so bad at these things." Death eyed a soapy puddle before he stepped over it. "He tries so hard, things should work out better for him."

"You can't just _want_ to be good at stuff." For some reason, Andrew sounded a bit bitter just then. "What, is it shit he sees people doing and that he thinks looks fun?"

"Uhm, yes?" Death came to a stop in front of the apartment door and gave Andrew a slight smile when he noticed how his friend was scowling. "It's... it may not seem like it, but he does have a lot to do. It's not often that he leaves his duties unattended this long." Often it was when Compassion felt that Death needed a 'learning experience' or something that he played at being human so much.

"Whatever." Yet Andrew seemed less scornful at the moment, so Death opened the door, only to find Compassion and Courage in the living room with a pile of wet and oddly colored clothes that smelled strongly of soap and some chemical. "And on that note, I'm leaving,” Andrew proclaimed after eyeing the Virtues for only a second or two. He grabbed the front of Death's shirt to pull him in for a quick kiss before heading out the door. "Get kidnapped during the night and I won't forgive you this time."

"You're unbearable, go away," Death scolded, but couldn't help but smile while he did.

"Good night," Compassion called out as he stood up, and then gaped at Death when he got close enough to notice the collar. "Oh, wow, new look or what? And I can sense the protection spell on that thing from over here!"

Courage dropped something that was mottled pink onto the floor and got up as well. "Huh, not bad, not bad at all. Sun boy most have had some help because something like that's not easy, but he did a good job." She smirked a little when she got close enough. "Things are going good between you two, I see."

Death frowned at that while he toyed with the key. "What do you mean? Because he gave it to me?"

"Well, because you're wearing it in the first place when you freak out over anyone trying to help you, but that and you have a couple of hickeys on your neck?"

That statement made him look at her in confusion, until she came over and gently led him to the bathroom, turned on the light and faced him at the mirror. It was there that he could see the vivid bruises on his neck above the collar.

Two thoughts came to mind as he stared at his neck rather than the image of his face: first, that it might not have been the collar that Betsy Dobson had been so focused on, back at her house, and second, how odd that the marks weren't fading.

"I think it's safe to say that someone is a bit territorial over you and wants others to know to 'back off'," Courage said while still wearing the smirk.

"Yeah, you should see my back when she gets like that." Compassion grinned at the two of them, at least until Courage gave him a withering look and Death shook his head. "Uhm, too much?"

"What happened to the clothes?" Death asked in a desperate attempt to change the subject while tugging his hood over his head, not that it did much for his neck.

"Ah yes, the clothes." Courage's eyes narrowed even more as she stared at her fellow Virtue. "Be thankful that he hadn't gotten to many of yours yet, though _someone_ is going to be taking me shopping tomorrow night."

"I said I was sorry," Compassion whined as he backed out of the bathroom with both hands held up in a placating manner. "I don't know what I did wrong!"

"I told you not to dump _all_ of the bottles’ contents in the machine!"

"But I wanted to make sure they got clean! It made sense to add it all in there!"

"There were measuring charts and lines included with the things for a reason! _Bah_!" Courage threw her hands in the air and went back to the living room and pile of wet clothes, stomping all the while. "He just shoved _everything_ in there and then _bubbles_! This awful rackety noise and bubbles and water everywhere." She ranted as she prodded through the ruined clothes.

"Uhm, okay." Death gave an obviously upset Compassion a pat on the left arm. "You tried your best?" Or at least, had tried something.

His friend gave him a grateful look. "I'll figure it out yet," the Virtue swore with a determined expression. "It can't be any more difficult than guns or those microwave oven things."

It appeared that Death would need to contact one of Hestia's acolytes about a laundry service in the near future.

He retreated to his room for the night and left Compassion to his fate (a displeased Courage), where he was greeted by several eager cats. After feeding them and refilling their water dish, he settled in the one window with the black one on his lap and listened to all of them tell him about their recent adventures, and put up with some expected disdain about the collar (they had nothing to say about the bruises, thankfully). He was just explaining that no, Andrew was _not_ going to declaw him anytime soon when he felt a familiar brush of power and twisted about to see Tisiphone hovering outside the fire escape.

Ah, yes, he had altered the wards, hadn't he? He readjusted them to allow her to land and turned to sit around in the window, the black cat held cradled in his arms. "Good night to you."

"And to you, too." She smiled at him as she perched on the metal railing, her wings singing in the night's faint breeze and the full skirt of her pink dress fluttering about. "Ah, I see that Andrew finally gave it to you." She nodded at his neck.

"Yes." He touched the key for a moment while the cat gave a sleepy protest at being jostled. "You knew about it.” Andrew had said that she’d helped with the spells.

Her smile widened and she took to fussing with her skirt as she ducked her head, to bunching the material between her clawed fingers. "He took me shopping with him last night to help him pick out something appropriate." She sounded incredulous over such a thing, and Death imagined that not many people chose to spend much time with her - not many people chose to spend much time with _him_ , after all. "Then I helped show him what to do with it."

"I see." Death could feel Andrew's power wrapped around his neck like a warm caress, like the times when his friend's hand gripped his nape in order to center him, to calm him down and reassure him. He supposed the reason why he had accepted such a thing - an important symbol of him accepting Andrew - was that despite him knowing the demi-god for such a short time, was that he was certain that Andrew would never do him harm, that Andrew would keep his word regardless of the price.

It was rather sobering and altogether frightening, realizing how much one person had come to mean to him.

"Thank you," he told her as he pet the black cat. "It seems to give him some measure of comfort and helped him... well, helped him to forgive me for last night, even though I'm still not sure why he was so upset. I can handle myself."

Tisiphone looked up at him once more and smiled, but there was an edge to the expression then, a glimmer of sharp white teeth. "Because he cares for you, and _didn't_ care for you being in harm's way." When he gave her a blank look for that bit of inanity, she shrugged. "For what he perceived to be harm's way, though if it's true that Temperance being controlled by Deception, then the possibility is there."

"I can handle Temperance," Death insisted. "And I can handle Deception if he's not up to his tricks."

"Yes, but when _isn't_ he up to his tricks?" she asked.

There was that.

Things were quiet for a moment, save for the purring of the cat. "Why are you doing this?" he asked. "Why are you so interested in him? Surely he's not the only demi-god you've come across."

"No," the Fury acknowledged. "But he shows such great promise, too much for him to fade away in mortal obscurity or for him to go the way that many of his kind do." Into madness.

"So what do you intend?" Death allowed his aspect to flare as he held her gaze. "You're watching him for a reason and I want to know what it is."

Tisiphone didn't say anything for a moment, and then she shook her head. "Sloth does nothing but talk about the ‘old’ days to anyone who listens, her disdain for the current times evident to all. Thalia... Thalia has had her heart broken one too many times and mourns her most recent lover." Something made the Fury's face twist about as she mentioned the Grace, but it was gone too fast for Death to catch. "Destiny searches for a new heir, for someone to take over for him. Am I foolish in thinking that Andrew would do well as one of us?"

He considered what she had said for a moment, the fingers of his right hand buried in soft, warm fur. "Sloth in particular would be a good fit," he admitted. "Perhaps not for the humans as he might... over-inspire them, but..." Yes, it would do.

Tisiphone's smile was pure once more. "It would be a calling of sorts for him, I must admit."

"That or him as a new Reynaud," Death said with some bitterness while he thought of all his stolen drinks. "Is that why Aglaia had him take the egg?" he asked. "To leave his family with something once he accepts an Aspect?" He had wondered about it, especially once he'd seen it in the living room earlier; it wasn't to say that the Grace couldn't be generous, but he had been surprised over her giving something so beautiful to a complete stranger, and a demi-god at that.

"Yes." Now the Fury's expression was pensive as she once more plucked at the thin material of her skirt. "The young witchling will most likely remember him since he has so much power, but the woman won't. She should at least take some comfort when she sees the egg and can feel the love he holds for her, feel some semblance of what was."

Hold some tiny bit of the feeling she once had when Andrew was part of her life, Death surmised, since once Andrew became a Vice then no mortals would remember his existence - it would be as if he'd never existed. There couldn't be Andrew Dobson _and_ Sloth, so one of them would have to be wiped away - at least in a mortal sense. It hadn't affected Death since he'd never been mortal, had always been a part of the Named Ones' world, always been _other_ , but from what he'd seen... it affected the few humans and demi-humans who had been chosen to receive an Aspect.

Andrew was strong, he would survive the transition.

But as everything in their world, it wouldn’t come without a cost.

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, it happened. BUT, I hope you realized it wasn't just a whim thing going on (HONEST, though the thought of Neil/Death in a collar... yeah... okay, snapping back now). Honestly, PLOT. I will insist upon that. That's my story.
> 
> And the egg, there's a plot reason for that, too. Seriously. I am all about being PLOTTY. Yep. There's lot of plot here. Things that will lead into a second story that's being set up. 
> 
> In other words, DO NOT HATE ME for the last part there (I have learned that a few people seem to like Bee for some reason and take offense to... well, we won't dig up the past. Moving on). Trust me on this.
> 
> That said, we're getting close to wrapping things up here. Maybe just a few more chapters left. Might have this done before chapter 20 (I try not to guess too much the exact chapter length, because while I have a general plot outline, some scenes go longer than I intend and some things get shifted to another chapter or moved up. Case in point, something just got moved to the next chapter). But yes, we've got a lot of the general plot for this covered now, and are moving to tying things up for THIS part of the story. The Andrew part of the story. The next part? Hmm, which Fox are we missing?
> 
> And look for a Heartlines ch2 on Wednesday! I can't promise a steady Wed update, but you'll have one next week.
> 
> And I have to give a lot of credit for the exact nature of the collar to godot - while I had intended for there to be one, her amazing artwork ended up influencing its outcome (posting it once again):  
> http://still-waiting-for-godot.tumblr.com/post/157769359129/youre-death-i-am-death-the-first
> 
> As always the comments and kudos are greatly appreciated.  
> *******


	15. Death Becomes a Bit Overwhelmed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, poor, poor Andrew....
> 
> ******

*******

Andrew stood by the coffee maker while he waited for it to finish brewing, out of sorts and desperate for caffeine. He thought for a moment that perhaps he should cut back on how many drinks he stole from Neil while working… and decided that the probable growing caffeine addiction didn’t outweigh the amusement.

Besides, his need that morning stemmed more from the lack of sleep due to a… he wasn’t quite sure it was a nightmare during the night, though it had left him restless in its wake. He’d dreamt of him and Neil standing on top of some tall building overlooking a large cosmopolitan city, talking about something he couldn’t understand, and then Neil had turned to face him with the saddest smile Andrew had ever seen before sprouting these gorgeous black wings, the feathers glimmering in the fading sunlight, before he spread them and then flew off into the growing twilight. Andrew could still feel the terror he felt at being so high up from the ground, the contentment of having Neil beside him, the rush of wind from the wings as Neil flapped them then flew away, the sense of loss at seeing his friend – no, boyfriend – fly away.

Dreams like that annoyed the fuck out of him. They were better than the ones dredging up shit from his past, but still, _annoying_. Did he really need his issues over abandonment thrown in his face like that, with a helping of his fear of heights on top? No, so fuck his subconscious – he was perfectly able to figure out that he was ‘falling’ for Neil and didn’t want to lose the idiot. However, there wasn’t much he could do about Neil walking out of his life just as easily as he’d walked into it.

Well, there _was_ the collar… but Neil could take it off and leave it in some back alley in Russia or South Africa or down in Antarctica. The thing was, Neil wasn’t Andrew’s possession and he was free to go whenever and wherever he wanted. All that was formally between them was Andrew’s promise to keep him safe.

Neil _had_ given him his name though. Had given him _Abram_ , Andrew reminded himself as he rubbed at the center of his chest.

Dammit, Andrew needed coffee because he was too tired to think about this shit on a Saturday morning without some caffeine. At least Bee was still in bed, probably enjoying one of her rare weekend indulgences of ‘it’s my day off, I am not budging from my nice, comfy bed before noon short of massive exsanguination or fire’.

One of the reasons why Andrew had managed to thrive in _this_ particular household had to do with Bee being Bee.

Andrew had gotten one cup of coffee and a couple pieces of toast slathered with a chocolate hazelnut spread into him when Nicky showed up bearing a box of donuts and wearing a nervous smile on his face.

“What, you get tired of screwing Erik’s brains out already?” Andrew asked as he leaned against the counter.

Nicky stared at him for a moment before shrugging, his smile a bit more certain as he set the box down on the kitchen table. “Not even close, but I know how much you and Bee are missing the sight of my beautiful face.”

“Somehow I’d live without it,” Andrew told him before slurping some coffee. “I’d find an ugly dog to stare at instead or something.”

The answering whine came right as expected. “So mean! Why can’t you just admit that you adore me?” Nicky sniffed as he sat down at the table then looked around. “Uhm, Bee?”

“Still in bed, though she’ll probably be out here soon if she hears your whiny voice.” Andrew nodded toward the patio door while he grabbed the box of donuts. “Come on.”

“Okay.” Nicky followed along without any undo bitching for once, and once they were outside, Andrew found a spot on the grass to sit down and start eating donuts, a cream-filled one first. “So, you and, uhm, _Neil_ have any plans for tomorrow?” The way the pest asked that while fussing with his hair in an obvious nervous tell made Andrew pause in taking the last couple bites of his breakfast.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Uhm, well, I just….” Nicky’s laugh was a bit high-pitched from evident strain while he stared at Andrew for a couple of seconds before Andrew’s flat look made him look aside. “He… uhm….”

“Spit it out, you’re becoming even more annoying than usual,” Andrew warned before he popped the last bit of donut into his mouth then picked out another one.

Nicky muttered something beneath his breath then rubbed at his face, which had cleared up from the whole backlash thing. “Erik told me what Neil is, okay?” he finally admitted, his demeanor subdued. “How can you….” He glanced back at the house as if to make sure that Bee wasn’t nearby then shook his head. “I mean I like him and all, but aren’t you freaked out by him, just a little?”

“No, because he’s Neil.” Andrew gave his cousin a cool look for a couple of seconds while he ate the chocolate cake donut. “Are you freaked out that Erik’s some old light elf thing?”

A wide smile came over Nicky’s face for a moment. “No! Erik is amazing, is-“ Then his expression faltered. “Neil is _Death_ ,” he hissed as he huddled in on himself. “Look, I don’t still get everything, get this ‘Named One’ stuff, but from what Erik said, he goes around and-“ Nicky flapped his left hand in the air for a couple of seconds. “People die because of him.”

“He’s there _because_ people die,” Andrew said, which wasn’t quite true but neither was what Nicky had said – the pest made it sound like Neil killed people. “If you don’t like it, then just leave him alone,” Andrew warned. “Give him any shit and I won’t be happy.”

That made Nicky’s eyes widen, and things were quiet while Andrew had another donut. After about a minute, Nicky managed a weak laugh and dared to reach into the box for a custard donut and managed to snag it before his hand was smacked. “Okay, I get it.” He gave Andrew a lopsided smile as he tore off a piece of pastry. “Can’t really cast any stones when I’m learning magic and dating Erik, it’s just….” He seemed to think about something while he had about half of the donut. “He’s _Death_ , that takes a bit of an adjustment period even if he’s gorgeous and everything.”

“Keep your mouth shut about it,” Andrew reminded the pest, a bit annoyed that Erik had talked about Neil at all. “And don’t ask Neil any of your stupid questions or anything.”

“No.” Nicky was quiet again while he finished the rest of his donut. “Uhm, you know, Erik had a lot to say about Neil.” His eyes went wide again when Andrew glared at him upon hearing that. “Nothing bad, okay?” Nicky held up his icing smeared hands in a placating manner. “From what he said, I get the impression that Neil’s really powerful and important.” For a moment something like jealousy flashed across Nicky’s face. “Erik only has good things to say about him… but I think he’s trying to figure out what’s going on with the two of you.” Now his expression was thoughtful. “He seemed worried and maybe a bit disapproving about Neil being with you because of the way you treat him.”

That didn’t do anything for Andrew’s temper, hearing shit like that. “What do you mean, how I treat him?” Andrew asked, his tone deceptively quiet.

Nicky knew him well enough to shake his head in a hurry. “No, nothing like that, nothing too bad!” he proclaimed, his voice pitched high as he defended his idiot boyfriend. “He just thinks you should be more respectful of Neil or something like that.” When Andrew’s eyes narrowed at that nonsense – it was clear that too many of the Named Ones treated Neil with too much reverence as it was, as someone to be worshipped and feared and used, which just increased the idiot’s isolation from everything – Nicky shrugged. “There was something about others complaining, too.”

“It seems to me that Neil’s opinion is the one which matters.” Andrew glared a moment longer before he put aside the comment; he knew his idiot complained about him stealing the drinks at work and a couple of other things, but then Neil would smile at him – something he didn’t see Neil do often for anyone else – so somehow he doubted Neil was unhappy with the situation. Somehow he didn’t think Neil would have accepted the collar last night or given Andrew his name if he was unhappy with Andrew.

“Yeah,” Nicky agreed. “That’s what I told Erik.” He was quiet for a moment while he played with his new necklace then smiled at Andrew. “I get the impression that Neil hasn’t hung out with too many people and everyone’s a bit confused by things. So, enough about him, what about you, hmm?” He eyed Andrew up and down a couple of times. “You know about me being a witch, about Abby and Erik and Neil. Just who is your grandfather, eh?”

Andrew picked up one more donut then closed the box. “Apollo, apparently.” He bit into the jelly donut while Nicky’s jaw fell and rolled his eyes. “From everything I here, he’s an asshole,” he continued after swallowing.

“Holy shit.” Then Nicky laughed after realizing what he’d just said. “So wait, a good Christian family like ours has a witch and an, uhm, demi-god, right?” He waited for Andrew to nod before continuing. “Right, a witch and a demi-god in it? No wonder we’re off the Christmas card list.” He was smiling while he said that, but Andrew could pick up on the sadness in his cousin’s dark eyes; Nicky had most likely been honest yesterday, when he said that he’d held out hopes of his parents forgiving him one day and taking him back, until he’d found out the truth about his mother and realized that he’d have to do what she’d done and give up his newfound magic abilities. That it was more than him being gay that would have to be ‘overlooked’, that he was doubly dammed in their eyes and he’d have to cut away too much of his true self to be accepted by them for it to ever be worth their approval.

“As if it ever mattered,” Andrew said – at least to him. Nicky had his own take on the whole family shit back in Columbia, but all Andrew cared about was here in Oakland.

Things were quiet again while Nicky tugged on the silver pentagram for about a minute. “So, uhm, do you ever wonder about Aaron at all?” he eventually asked, his expression pensive. “I mean, if he… well, if he’s like you?” He blanched at the look that Andrew gave him for the question.

“You think he could last that long with your father and your aunt if he was?”

“True.” Nicky seemed to think about something then shook his head. “You got a point there – my dad seemed to think that Aaron would make him a better son than me any day.” That was said with a great deal of bitterness. “I mean, _he_ wasn’t a faggot and a-“ Nicky drew in a shuddering breath and shook his head again. “Enough about them.”

That was something Andrew could agree with, so he grabbed the box of donuts and stood up. “Come on, for some inane reason Bee probably wants to talk to you and we have work soon.”

“Aw, really, why are you so _mean_?” Nicky whined as he scrambled onto his feet. “You got a cute boyfriend and all! You should be happy!” They returned to the kitchen to find Bee, hair tousled and dressed in her old robe, smiling when she caught sight of them.

“I thought I heard Nicky’s voice,” she said as she held out her arms, and of course the pest stumbled over his feet in his haste to give her a hug. “Hey, stranger,” she chided even as she rubbed his back.

“Oh my god, I have so much to tell you,” he said in a rush. “Erik is _wonderful_.”

“Hmm, all right, let me fix my coffee and you can catch me up,” Bee told him as she gave him a hug; Andrew left them to it while he went off to get a shower, pretty certain that Nicky would heed his and Abby’s warnings about keeping his mouth shut. Yes, Nicky could be a moron about a lot of things, but in the end Bee was important to him so he would do what was best for her – and her knowing about the personification of Death and light elves? Might not be best for her to find out about such things right now.

Andrew checked his phone when he got to his bedroom and had a message from Matt which included a photo of Neil holding the one grey cat while wearing a grey hooded t-shirt and the collar, along with the message ‘which one is yours?’ and a laughing face emoji. There was also a message from Dan stating ‘you better treat him right’ and a rather threatening face emoji (which he hadn’t even known existed but he made sure to save because it would come in handy) and several weapon emojis (again, all new to him and all saved – what, did Named Ones have their own emojis?), and a text from Neil apologizing for his roommates taking his phone from him so they could have Andrew’s phone number (no emojis).

He texted Matt back ‘very funny, fuck off’ with the new threatening emoji, ignored Dan’s, and sent Neil a ‘you suck and now owe me yet another dinner’ before getting his shower. By the time he got out, there was another laughing face emoji from Matt and a message from Neil – ‘what do you do with your salary when I seem to be paying for everything’ and a frowning cat face emoji.

Andrew sent back ‘buying you collars’ with some satisfaction then focused getting ready for the day, and once that was done went out into the kitchen to find Bee and Nicky still talking. Since Bee was smiling and Nicky all animated with a big grin on his face, Andrew took things to mean that everything was all right - that the pest hadn't said something that he shouldn't for once.

"-and you won't believe how good he can cook! He makes these incredible crepes for breakfast! They're so good." Nicky groaned as he sat back in his chair. "I'm getting hungry just thinking about them."

"Well, it sounds like you finally found yourself a keeper there," Bee said as she got up to pour herself some more coffee. "Not to say 'I told you so'-"

"Liar," Andrew sang out as he checked the box of donuts and helped himself to another.

Bee gave him a rueful grin but didn't deny the accusation. "It's rude to interrupt, but let me just remind you that I've commented a time or two before that you weren't likely to find someone suitable in those club you frequent."

Nicky had the grace to blush a little. "Well, it wasn't like I, uhm, never mind. It was just fun," he mumbled into his own mug of coffee.

"I'm sure it was." Bee gave him a knowing look as she returned to the table and tousled his hair, which earned her a faint complaint from Nicky. "So another busy day tormenting David for the two of you?"

"Yes, and then Erik's taking me out to dinner," Nicky appeared happy once more. "I'll, ah, be spending the night at his place again, but be back tomorrow night for school."

"I figured that by now." Bee's tone was a bit wry, and she ignored Andrew's pointed look. "What about you?" she asked him.

"Neil and I will do something after work, but _I'll_ be back tonight."

"Oh, taking him for a walk?" Bee asked, her expression much too innocent just then. "I hear there's a dog show in town."

"Very funny," Andrew told her as he dusted powdered sugar from his hands.

"Uhm, Neil's a cat person," Nicky offered, of course completely missing the humorless point that Bee was making. "Maybe if it was a cat show he'd like to go?"

When Bee's smile widened, Andrew's eyes narrowed in warning. "Not another word," he cautioned his mother while Nicky looked on in confusion.

"I don't know where this hostility is coming from, I was just going to suggest a lovely seafood place for dinner," she told him, her expression still much too innocent but a wicked gleam in her brown eyes. "The two of you have fun tonight, let down your hair and loosen the _collars_ a little."

Andrew gave her the finger, which prompted a laugh from her and a protest from Nicky while he stalked back to his room to brush his teeth, annoyed at how well Bee knew his buttons and could say things without really saying anything. By the time he came out, Nicky was waiting for him and kept giving him side glances until they were in the car.

"So…."

"Not going there," Andrew warned; the pest would know soon enough, once they got to the coffee shop.

Neil was in the back clocking in when they arrived, the collar and bruises standing out with the light blue hooded t-shirt he wore beneath the Laughing Fox t-shirt. Nicky made a choking sound when he noticed everything, then coughed when Andrew nailed him in the sternum with his elbow as he went over to the idiot. "Glad to see you didn't get kidnapped during the night."

"Your sense of humor is as lacking as your morals," Neil told him, yet smiled and nodded as Andrew grabbed the key and used it to pull him forward for a quick kiss.

"Like you're one to talk." Andrew let go of the key to tug on his idiot's apron instead. "Nice look." Apparently that item of clothing hadn't escaped Matt's laundry attempt since it bore some bleach stains.

Neil sighed as he followed Andrew out to the front of the shop, with Nicky tagging along while struggling with a clear effort not to ask about the collar. "Dan is still upset with him, something about her favorite shirt." He shrugged as he fussed with the strings of his apron. "It seems a bit ridiculous since it’s just a shirt.”

“What, you don’t get attached to things like that?” Andrew asked. “No favorite hoodie or anything?”

Neil hesitated at the question. “Well, there’s this cloak….”

Why wasn’t Andrew surprised? “Such a shame, the whole Dark Ages being no more, right?”

“I’m very grateful for the widespread development and use of sewer systems and indoor plumbing, because on the whole human hygiene can be deplorable without it,” Neil remarked as his face crinkled in disgust. “There were a few centuries when I was grateful to not have to breathe at all, humans are so appalling in that regard.”

“Oh my god, I can’t… is he really saying this stuff?” Nicky gasped as he gawked at Neil so much that the whites of his eyes could be easily seen.

“Yes,” Andrew sighed as he reached out to latch onto the key and tug Neil closer. “I really am rethinking that ball gag right now.”

“But you asked.” Neil frowned at him as if puzzled over what was wrong. “I’m merely pointing out some of the things wrong with the Dark Ages, though yes, the cloaks were wonderful.”

“Eh, what about the Dark Ages?” Matt asked, since by that point they’d reached the front counter; he looked up from his phone and grinned at Andrew and Neil.

“Apparently, they stank in a literal sense,” Andrew remarked as he used his free hand to flip up the counter.

“Oh hell yes,” Matt swore with fervor while waving his left hand in front of his face. “Go find a cesspool and dump some perfume on it, and you’d have an idea of what we had to put up with back then.”

Nicky sidled over to Matt, his eyes still wide and jaw working as if he was trying to gather the courage to actually speak several times before he could get a sound to come out. “Wuh-wait, you guys talk like this all the time? Why haven’t I noticed it?”

“Well, we don’t usually go on about cesspools, but yeah.” Matt gave him a slight smile while he shrugged and put away his phone. “And usually you’re too busy mooning over Erik to notice.”

“I’m not… huh.” Nicky seemed to think about things for a moment or two while he gave Neil a quick glance; he seemed a little nervous about the idiot, but he wasn’t outright freaked out so Andrew figured he’d go back to seeing Neil as a ‘cutie’ soon enough and forget that he was Death. “I’m not _that_ bad,” Nicky finished, but it sounded rather lame.

“You’re pathetic,” Andrew sneered at his cousin.

“I’m not!” Nicky folded his arms over his chest and glared at him. “I’m just-“

“Oh, hi Erik,” Matt called out.

“Erik?” Nicky’s face all but glowed with excitement as he spun around to look for his boyfriend. “Did you come to-“ It was then that he caught Matt grinning at him and the fact that Erik wasn’t there, that it had been a joke. “Now you’ve done it, you have earned the infamous Nicholas Hemmick wrath!” Nicky declared as he started shoving a laughing Matt around.

Neil sighed as he watched their antics for a moment then shook his head. “I truly must see about appeasing the Fates one of these days, this suffering is getting to be too much to bear.”

Andrew smacked a certain idiot on the back of the head. “ _No sacrifices_!” How many times did he have to say that? Though yes, putting up with Nicky and Matt was a bit much.

Before Neil could start bitching, Wymack’s deep voice rang out. “What the hell are you two idiots doing?” Matt and Nicky stopped shoving each other around (well, more Matt than Nicky) while Wymack glared at them from the other side of the counter, with an amused Abby at his side. “I don’t pay you to fool around, you brainless maggots!”

“Uhm, you don’t pay-“

“Shut it, Boyd!”

While he chewed the two morons out, Abby gestured to Andrew, who gave her a blank look before stepping forward. “Come help me set up the new decorations,” she told him, and after a moment’s hesitation he went out front when it was clear that Neil would remain back behind the counter.

There was a cardboard box on a chair near the large windows on the right, and Abby smiled at him while she picked up some window cleaner. “I thought it was time to put up some new things for summer,” she told him; when he looked inside the box, there were some new fox decals to put up on the windows.

“Okay.” He sorted through the box and picked out a few decals while she cleaned the windows.

“I also thought we could talk a little.” Abby glanced around the shop, which was in the middle of a lull since it was after the morning rush but before the lunch crowd.

“About what?” He gave her a blank look until she glanced aside. “About Nicky?”

“Maybe? If you want to talk about that.” She glanced over at him before she sprayed another spot on the window. “I wouldn’t offer to train him if I didn’t believe it would be good for him, you know.”

He thought about that for a moment then nodded. “He seems determined to learn from his mistake the other day.”

“Yes, he does.” She was quiet as she wiped the window clean. “Almost everyone does what he did, you know. There’s this _rush_ when you learn the craft, when you realize what you can do. It’s why I didn’t warn him, because it’s best you learn that particular lesson the hard way.” Her smile took on a mocking edge for a moment, which made him think that _she’d_ learned it the hard way, too. “I have every faith in him.”

Again, he nodded after considering what had been said. “As long as he does learn.” Because Andrew wasn’t going to let Nicky go about abusing his talent, his cousin or not.

“Yes,” Abby agreed, all trace of the smile gone for a few seconds. “So, you and Neil.” She gazed at him out of the corner of her eyes. “That’s quite the impressive casting, what you did with the collar.”

All he did was shrug, since he was unwilling to talk about either the gift or what was going on with Neil; Abby might be a friend, but it didn’t mean she deserved to know certain things. Not when she’d known the truth about Andrew and had kept it a secret.

She must have picked up on that, because she once more focused on the window until it was clean. “Andrew… I’ve known Neil a long time and I just… I’m glad he has someone like you, all right?” She turned to face him, her expression solemn. “He needs someone like you, someone who makes him smile and curse and… oh, I don’t know how to say this.” She pressed her fist to the tip of her nose for a moment while she appeared thoughtful for a couple of seconds. “It sounds cliché, but you make him come alive, and that’s important for him. I think it’s important for you both.” She looked at him as if waiting for him to respond in some manner.

Andrew stared back at her for a couple of seconds before handing her a sitting fox decal. “These are all stupid, but this is less stupid than the others.”

Abby accepted the decal with a weary sigh. “Wonderful chat, Andrew, thank you so much.”

“I’d say ‘any time’ but it would be a lie.” He watched as Abby put up a couple more decals before he spoke again. “What about Bee? Does she have anything to do with all of this shit?”

“Bee?” Abby shook her head as she stepped back as if to check how the window looked. “No, nothing. I do what I can to keep her away from it, to keep her safe.”

“Good, make sure it stays that way.” He handed over another decal then nodded back to the counter, where there were a couple customers. “I’m going back now.”

“All right. Just know that if you want to talk about anything, I’m here,” Abby offered before he walked away.

It wasn’t that Andrew had lost all trust in Abby, it was just… she and Wymack had known about him, had been willing to stand back and watch him fumble along without saying anything. What would have happened if Neil hadn’t show up?

He’d always felt different from everyone else, felt a bit of a disconnect because of his childhood, because of what he’d believed were the issues stemming from what he’d suffered in all those foster homes. He’d struggled with the seemingly bottomless anger inside of him, that potent fire which always simmered in his bones, his core, tamped down but never put out. Now though… now he was able to identify its source, was able to channel it into something that kept it under control, that placated it while making it more powerful at the same time. That made _him_ more powerful.

He could feel an echo of that fire in the wards around the coffee shop, in a building he protected because it was where his family worked or visited, because it was where his idiot spent time. He felt an echo of that fire in the leather and metal wrapped around said idiot’s neck as Neil made a drink, a drink Andrew snatched away before it could be set down and a lid placed on it, a hint of a smile on his face as he raised it to his lips and took a sip. “Too much chocolate syrup,” he lied as he drank the iced mocha. “You fail yet again.”

He felt that fire flare in answer to the cold emanating from Neil for the briefest of moments, an answer to the flash of silver starlight in big blue eyes. “Pretentious rapscallion,” Neil hissed at him, while Andrew hummed and made a show of having another sip of the mocha.

The anger was still there, ready to fan into an inferno at the mere thought of anyone harming what was his, what he’d sworn to protect. He would tear apart into small pieces, would burn to ash anyone who hurt his family, who would lay hands on Neil, without any hesitation or regret. But he was learning to do more with it now, was learning that there was more to him than he had ever imagined.

Monsters could do more than destroy, they could guard and protect as well.

He watched as a scowling Neil made another drink and sidled closer when Neil set it down on the counter until their shoulders brushed together, until his heat met Neil’s coldness once more. “Call me a ‘scoundrel’ next time,” he murmured next to his idiot’s cloth-covered ear, and allowed himself a sliver of a smile at the way Neil’s cheeks became flushed with color.

Neil’s hands shook as he fumbled to put on a lid to the drink, while Andrew continued to sip his own. Once that was done, he went to hand it to Matt, who gave him an odd look before shaking his head and turning to the customer. Andrew merely stood there while Neil stomped back over to stand in front of him, eyes once more pure silver and bright as stars.

“You’re despicable.”

“Hmm,” Andrew agreed without bothering to take the straw out of his mouth.

“You… you….” Neil let loose a stream of something that _might_ be Gaelic, but sounded a bit rough for that language. Whatever it was, it made Matt whip his head around to at first stare at Neil and then wince as he shook his head.

Andrew could see what Abby meant about Neil ‘coming alive’ just then, what with the way he looked with his cheeks flushed and eyes blazing, his lean body taut with tension and his entire being focused on Andrew.

As soon as the idiot fell quiet, Andrew arched an eyebrow and set the empty drink aside. “All done now?”

Neil panted a little as if out of breath. “I… I don’t know,” he admitted, his expression now puzzled and his eyes fading back into icy blue.

“Because there’s more drinks for you to suck at making.”

Neil’s eyes flared silver once more – it was a good thing his back was turned toward the customers, who were shifting about on the other side of the counter as if uncomfortable about something. “Why you fribble-“

Andrew cut him off by grabbing onto the front of his shirts and pulling him forward for a kiss, one that had Neil sighing after a second or two. It didn’t last long, not when they were working, but it was enough to rein in the idiot.

“What in the myriad rings of Hell have I done to the Fates?” Neil murmured against Andrew’s lips before he pulled away, his expression more than a little dazed.

“You’ve got it all wrong,” Andrew decided to enlighten his idiot. “They’re not punishing you, they’re _rewarding_ you.”

Now Neil’s expression was one of dawning horror. “It can’t… _no_.” Neil shook his head as he fumbled for a cup. “That’s not possible.”

“The truth hurts, doesn’t it?” Andrew felt more than a little smug at the moment as he leaned against the counter, his arms folded over his chest.

To prove his point, he’d be kind enough to wait at least fifteen minutes or so before he stole another drink.

*******

Death spent the time at the Laughing Fox alternating between indignation over Andrew's latest bout of larceny and... well, he didn't know what quite it was, the emotions that swelled inside of him when Andrew would brush against him or give him a steady look or-

He sighed as he watched Andrew eat a cupcake. "You are inconceivable."

Andrew gazed at him for several seconds before he finished his stolen dessert. "I do not think it means what you think it means, that word."

Death frowned at that statement. "Yes I do, I know the meaning of it in over a hundred languages." Had he just been insulted?

Andrew sighed as he used a towel to wipe his hands clean of icing. "Apparently Matt hasn't made you watch _that_ movie yet."

"What movie?"

"We'll save it for a later date," Andrew told him in a tone which made it clear he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Actually, Death had learned that Andrew never took ‘no’ for an answer – well, except for when they were- his face suddenly felt warm.

That earned him a narrowed look - even more of a narrowed look, considering what had happened in the last few hours. "Will it be anything like that last movie night?" Death asked as he found a sudden urge to clean the counter.

"I think you might like this one a bit better, but keep in mind it's not supposed to be 'historically accurate’ and spare me the rant." Andrew rolled his eyes as he reached out to tug back Death’s hood. "In fact, for each time you complain about something, you're buying me something to eat."

"When don't I buy you something to eat?" Death asked, honestly curious about the answer.

"You're also buying me something whenever you ask a stupid question like that." Now it was the key that was tugged on, since Death had taken to facing Andrew again.

"Do you enjoy making up these arbitrary rules whenever you feel like it?"

"Yes," Andrew told him without any evident trace of guilt or shame.

"I'm beginning to rethink that 'it's not a punishment, it's a reward' statement," Death declared as he batted at Andrew's hand.

"Of course you are, you're an idiot," Andrew told him with a hint of a smile.

"And you're a lazy churl."

"You're still buying me dinner." Andrew gave a tug on the key to pull Death closer. "In fact-"

"Oh for fuck's sake, will the two of you get out of here so decent people can work?" Janus sounded rather upset at the moment, so Death looked away from Andrew to find the god leaning over the counter to glare at them while a couple of employees hovered behind him as if for protection. “Go away.”

Ah, it was that time, wasn’t it? Death looked around to see that Erik had arrived to pick up Nicky, and realized that Compassion and the witch must already be in the back room clocking out. “Relax, we’re going,” Andrew told Janus as he tugged Death toward the counter. “Calm down before you have a heart attack and Abby can’t save your old ass.”

“She’d be taking pity on me, sparing me from having to put up with a demon dwarf like you anymore,” Janus shot back, then shook his head when he looked at Death; at least he wasn’t staring at the collar like he had earlier when he first caught sight of it. However, Death could tell when Erik did from the way the light elf’s mouth gaped and he stepped forward as if to come over to talk to him, but Andrew moved quickly toward the back room and spared them both from Erik’s – Erezekiel’s - interference.

They nearly ran into Nicky as he dashed out of the back room, a huge grin on his face and a cloud of cologne around him. Death coughed while the witch blew a kiss in his and Andrew’s direction. “Mwah! Here’s to everyone getting lucky tonight! I know I sure am!” He laughed as Andrew made a rude gesture at him and continued on his way.

Compassion was busy texting on his phone in the room, though he looked up to give Death a wan smile. “It looks like I’m gonna have to hit up Inari after I leave here, do you need anything? You’re going out with Andrew, right?”

“I’m fine,” Death told him while Andrew nodded. “Is everything all right?”

“It’s….” Compassion sighed and then laughed as he ran his left hand through his spiky hair. “Courage has quite a shopping list planned for tonight.” His smile took on a rueful edge. “She’s gonna run me ragged and cost a fortune to prove a point, but we always have fun when it’s all said and done.”

“Ah, all right.” Death supposed if it made his friend happy. “Have a good night buying items that will just rot and fall apart in a few decades?” he wished Compassion as he did the whole clocking out thing.

“Andrew, try to make him enjoy things for once, okay?” Compassion urged the demi-god before he left while shaking his head and texting once more.

“I fail to see what is enjoyable about indulging in the current obsession with over-consumption when- what!” Death glared at Andrew, who had just pulled his hood over his forehead.

“I’m not in the mood for one of your ‘humans are stupid’ rants,” Andrew told him.

“Uhm, I believe the point of it is more your foolish beha- oh what now?” Death tried to step back so Andrew could stop yanking on his hood – usually the churl was yanking it back, not down.

“I believe _you’re_ not getting the point of it all.” Andrew gave him a flat look for a couple of seconds before clocking out. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you to think about what you say before you say it?”

Death felt a pain inside of his chest as he tugged back the hood he’d just pushed aside. “Just… just my mother, back when we’d… well, to watch what I said to my father and his people,” he admitted to Andrew, whose expression went blank upon hearing the confession. “And _him_ , of course. I sound like her, he tells me.” He didn’t consider it a bad thing, to be honest, even if his father would make him pay for speaking up, for- Death rubbed his hands over his face and struggled not to slide _between_ , to go somewhere far away, to not stop moving as if he could run away from the mere thought of his father.

Gentle hands wrapped around his wrists and pulled his hands down so he could look at Andrew’s expression, at the burning eyes and concern on the handsome face that made Death’s chest ache in an altogether new way. “Then keep on being an unfiltered idiot,” Andrew told him as he pulled Death’s hands out, toward his shoulders, until Death figured out that it was all right for him to rest them there. “Even if you spout nonsense most of the time.”

“I’m not… I don’t really talk to people.” Death ducked his head even as his fingers slid along the soft cotton of Andrew’s black t-shirt, as he felt the warm, hard flesh of broad shoulders beneath the material. “It’s largely been Wrath, Compassion and Courage over the years.”

“And cats.”

“Yes, and cats.” Death looked up when Andrew’s fingers pushed back his hood and slid into his hair. “They never complain about what I have to say.”

“Imagine that.” Andrew tugged his head down, the motion slow and deliberate as if to give him time to object or pull away, yet all Death did was close his eyes and give in. The kiss was little more than a press of lips, of Andrew’s fingers scratching lightly against his scalp, but it made him hum in pleasure.

“Come on, I’m hungry,” Andrew chided Death as his hands slid down to cup the back of Death’s neck for a moment before he stepped away. “There’s a noodle place not too far away where we can get something to eat.”

“All right.” Death removed his apron and put it in the locker before they left the coffee shop. “I suppose as infuriating as it is to have you steal my perfectly fine drinks and the desserts here, there is a benefit to it,” he commented to Andrew. “Or else I’d never be able to feed you on my own.”

Andrew paused in lighting a cigarette once they stepped outside of the Laughing Fox to give him an unimpressed look. “How amusing. Just for that I’ll-“

“Really, _Neil_ , what would your father say about you slumming like this?”

Death sensed Deception right about the same time he heard the treacherous bastard’s voice, hatred flaring to life inside of him and his Aspect rushing to the fore. Beside him, Andrew flung the cigarette aside and his arm in front of Death as if to shield him, that protective fire burning strong and his eyes blazing red as torches as he glared. “Fuck off,” Andrew snarled as he pulled a knife from his left armband.

Deception, dressed in black slacks and a black sweater, sneered at the demi-god as he stood in the middle of the parking lot; all around them, the humans scurried away from the coffee shop as the aura of powers became too much for them, would turn around and walk in the opposite direction rather than approach. “Mongrels such as yourself shouldn’t interfere in the matters of your betters. Go away.”

“A better prick, maybe, but that’s about it. Now _you_ go away before I carve out your liver.”

“This is ridiculous.” Deception scoffed at Andrew while he folded his arms over his chest. “Are you going to let this ill-bred child talk for you, _Neil_?”

“Yes, when he’s saying exactly what I would,” Death admitted. “You’re a scabrous poltroon so fuck off.”

Anger flashed across Deception’s face as he scowled at Death. “I will enjoy teaching you some manners.”

“Not as much as I’ll enjoy obliterating your soul when it comes time for your end,” Death promised.

“Which will be any moment now, if you try to touch him.” Andrew held up the knife a little higher. “I don’t care if you’re a Named One or not.”

An unpleasant sneer came over Deception’s face as he took a step forward. “This will be easier than I expected, if you’ve grown so weak that you need to hide behind a snarly demi-god of all things.” He reached behind his back, probably to pull free a blade so he could carve the rest of the sigil onto Death’s chest, when Andrew lunged forward with his own weapon.

Death didn’t know if Deception meant to strike at Andrew or him, but the bastard’s blade never got a chance to draw blood, not when Andrew’s hit first. Deception’s dark brown eyes grew wide as he hissed in shock, as he recoiled in pain with his right arm held cradled against his chest and blood dripped to the ground.

The unthinkable had happened, a demi-god – a part _mortal_ – had landed a blow on a Named One.

“It’ll be your throat next,” Andrew warned in a low and vicious voice, his eyes burning even brighter and body radiating a fierce heat that made Death want to lean against him to soak it up. “I told you, _you will not touch him_.”

“But that’s not-“ Deception shook his head in evident disbelief as he stared at first Andrew and then Death. “You _can’t_.”

“He’s not a mongrel,” Death stated as he stepped closer to Andrew’s back; the motion snared Deception’s attention, made the bastard’s eyes narrow as he focused on something.

“You let this thing _mark_ you?” Deception spat, and Death frowned at that comment as he remembered the collar. “Something tainted with human blood? You’ll regret it, both of you.” Then Deception stepped _between_ before anything else was said.

Things were quiet for a moment or two while Andrew stood there braced in front of Death with the knife still held out, and then he clicked his tongue in evident disgust. "That was rather anti-climatic."

"He does tend to flounce away once he's denied what he wants," Death admitted.

"'Flounce', huh." The tension slowly drained from Andrew's muscular body as he wiped the blade clean on the right leg of his black jeans. "That's rather fitting for him." He searched the parking lot before he nodded toward his car. "Change of plans, we're going straight to your place and you can take me out so we can pick up some noodles."

"That would probably be wise." Death would feel much better if they spent most of the night behind wards he knew Deception couldn't breach, not after that encounter.

He noticed that Janus was watching from the front window of the shop as they made their way to Andrew's car, probably standing guard for his employees and customers; the god gave him a respectful nod before turning away.

"I'll have to ward the parking lot," Andrew muttered as he started up the car. "Should have done it in the first place."

"No." Death shook his head in the face of his friend's glare. "Then he'll confront us from the sidewalk."

"I'll ward-"

" _No_ ," he repeated. "I told you before, one must draw a line in these things, must allow other Named Ones some free passage." He sighed as he slumped down in the seat and ran his hand through his hair. "We will just watch out for him."

When Andrew seethed in obvious disagreement beside him, Death risked a light touch to the demi-god's right arm. "Thank you."

That seemed to bank some of the ire since Andrew let out a slow breath and shake his head. "Someone has to protect an idiot like you."

"Hmm." Death smiled a little at that ridiculous statement. "Yes, because I'm helpless otherwise."

"You said it, not me." Andrew gave him a pointed look for a moment before returning his attention to the road in front of him, then reached into the middle shelf of the car to fetch a pack of cigarettes. "That guy is such a prick, how did he ever get an aspect?"

"Because he's very good at being deceptive." Feeling tired all of a sudden, Death closed his eyes. "So very good at it."

"So it seems." The ride was quite for a while, so much so that Death started when he felt a hand rest on his left knee; he had fallen into a daze of sorts, comforted by Andrew's presence and the scent of burning tobacco, which reminded him of temple fires to honor the gods and ancient bonfires to chase back the darkness.

Of the pyre he'd lit on the beach of the North Sea to burn his mother's body so very long ago, before Lola and Romero had tracked him down.

"Hmm?"

"I meant what I said back there," Andrew told him, his gaze still fixed on the road ahead but his tone solemn. "I'm not going to let him touch you again."

"I know." Death straightened up and smiled, just a little, certain that Andrew would notice it. "Just... be careful," he asked as his hands twisted in the hem of his t-shirt. "It's his way to not come at you directly." Such as using Temperance because he could, because Death would not suspect a Virtue like that.

Andrew scoffed at the warning. "I'm not the one who goes off with assholes when he knows he shouldn't." When Death turned to face him better, Andrew shook his head. "No, I know what you mean." He finished the cigarette and flicked it out the slightly open window. "You've seen the house and how I've warded it, and if I have to then I'll ward Bee's office, too."

"Okay." Hopefully it wouldn't come to that, it would be more Deception trying to hurt Death and no one else, but nothing could be ruled out.

They finally reached the apartment building, where Death was hard-pressed not to sigh when Andrew parked the car and all but glared at everyone around them as they made their way inside. “I doubt Deception or Temperance will try anything so soon.”

“Uh-huh. You also probably didn’t expect to have half a sigil carved into your chest,” the churl reminded him.

“Bastard,” Death muttered as they made their way up the stairs, while Andrew huffed in amusement.

“You know I’m right, you can’t even come up with a ridiculous insult for once.”

“ _Your_ ridiculousness has left me stunned,” Death shot back, and did his best to ignore the rapscallion until they reached the apartment.

He was pleased to find that there wasn’t a mess of clothes left in the living room anymore, and after tending to the cats, he grasped Andrew’s left hand so they could go _between_ to Hong Kong, to a particular street where there were always noodles being made no matter what the hour. He nodded to the stand’s proprietor, the dragon, currently in its human form with a thin veneer of glamour to hide the sheen of its pearl-white scales and ruby red eyes, and ordered three large bowls of Dan Dan noodles along with several pineapple buns that the stall had available since it was morning.

Andrew eyed the dragon with some interest, while the dragon gave the collar around Death’s neck a long look for a few seconds before he put together their order.

As soon as they had their food, they stepped into the shadows and then _between_ to return to the apartment, where Andrew put the food down on the low table in front of the couch before heading into the kitchen. Somehow, Death wasn't surprised to see him return with a couple of bottles of alcohol along with two glasses and some napkins, and shook his head. "You'd fit in well with the Vices."

"I seem to fit in well with the Virtues, considering I just raided their kitchen," Andrew was quick to point out, and Death had to concede that he was right. "Now what did you all get?"

Death put two of the bowls in front of his friend, well acquainted with Andrew's appetite by then, and all but one of the cakes. "They may not be as sweet as you're used to, but they're very popular." He watched as the demi-god bit onto one and chewed a few times, his expression blank, and then nod in approval.

"Not bad," Andrew said, which Death took to mean that he liked them, and they sat down next to each other on the couch as they ate their spicy noodles and Andrew some of the cakes; he was amused to see that Andrew was adept with the chopsticks, quick to move the noodles from the bowl and into his mouth. Between bites, he had sips of whiskey while he glanced at Death's bowl. "Do you ever eat?" he asked when he was on his second bowl.

Death shrugged as he set his bowl aside and picked up the pineapple cake. "I told you, I don't need to. It's something I do more for the taste and company."

Andrew paused and seemed to think about that. "How does that work?"

"I exist." Death shrugged as he broke the cake in half. "I don't need something like food to sustain me anymore."

"There's a difference between need and want." Andrew held up his refilled glass of whiskey for a moment and then seemed to reconsider. "Some things make life more enjoyable."

"Such as stealing perfectly fine drinks?"

"That is a service to mankind, sparing them your pathetic barista skills," Andrew declared before he had a bite of cake. "One day you'll own up to your failures."

"And one day you'll own up to the fact that you're a larcenous liar," Death insisted.

Andrew gave him a bland look while he drained the last of his whiskey, then set the glass on the table before he reached out to cup Death's left cheek. "Yes or no?"

Blinking a little at the question since it seemed a little out of place, Death glanced at the food left on the table and then at Andrew. "Yes. Though don't you-" He found himself cut off as Andrew pulled him into a kiss, one that had him forgetting about their argument and dinner and everything but the feel of Andrew’s slightly rough lips on his own, of Andrew’s fingers sliding into his hair and along his spine.

A slight moan slipped free as he twisted on the couch to better face his friend, his hands hovering in the air around Andrew’s chest. “My shoulders and above,” Andrew whispered against his lips before he mouthed insistent kisses along Death’s jaw, which prompted another moan even as Death gripped the bastard’s shoulders.

He found himself shivering in pleasure and falling backwards when Andrew’s mouth reached his neck, which prompted the demi-god to pull back to look down on him, blond hair falling into hazel eyes filled with red sparks. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Death said as his hands tightened on Andrew’s broad shoulders. “ _Yes_.” He gave a slight tug as he shivered again, filled with a sudden chill and emptiness, and Andrew only hesitated a moment before leaning down until he was stretched out on top of Death’s body.

Andrew felt… he was so solid and warm, so heavy yet not burdensome in the slightest; Death gasped at the feel of Andrew’s hips between his thighs, his left arm braced on the side of the couch and hand in Death’s hair and mouth once more trailing teasing kisses along his neck. Instead of feeling pinned down or trapped, of being constrained in some way, Death felt enveloped by Andrew and his warmth, his strength, and could close his eyes and lose himself in the intense, unfamiliar emotions that the man brought out in him.

He stroked his fingers along firm muscles flexing beneath soft cotton and drew in a sharp breath when teeth scraped lightly along his neck just above the collar, and felt more than heard Andrew chuckle in response. Death’s hips jerked when Andrew bit down harder, a strangled cry catching in his throat at the feeling that action provoked, as his fingers dug in even harder to Andrew’s shoulders.

“I… oooh,” he breathed out, body tingling from _so_ much emotion, so much feeling. It was as if he was soaking in all of Andrew’s heat, all of his fire, with how hot he was becoming, how the sense of pleasure seared through him from everywhere Andrew’s body touched his. “I don’t… I….” He started to gasp and shiver, to clutch at Andrew’s shoulders as he fought to make sense of it all, of everything suddenly being _too much_.

“Neil? _Fuck_.” Death’s senses spun as he was jerked upright, practically onto a frowning Andrew’s lap as fingers combed through his hair. “Breathe, okay? Are you all right? If you let go of- okay, never mind.” Andrew continued to run his fingers through Death’s hair while Death held on to the demi-god’s shoulders, his face buried in the crook of Andrew’s neck as he struggled to not go _between_ , his usual default for whenever he felt anything too strongly. “Okay, so maybe that wasn’t all bad?” Andrew asked, his tone a little too blank for Death’s liking just then.

“No.” Finally calm enough once again to move, Death lifted his head. “It was….” He frowned as he struggled to describe the problem. “Uhm, too good?” He could finally let go of Andrew’s shoulders and touch the side of his neck, which tingled from being bitten. “I never felt anything like that before.”

Andrew’s blank expression changed into something almost like pain before he rubbed at his face. “The two of us…. Seriously?” he asked after a few seconds. “You’re how old and _nothing_?” He stared at Death intently, the red gleam back in his eyes.

“Do you mean have I never felt like this before?” Death’s hand slipped down to press against his own chest. “I told you, I’ve never wanted anyone before you, so why would I have felt these things before?”

“Fuck,” Andrew muttered again as he closed his eyes and shook his head.

“No, I’ve never done that, either,” Death added. “Or fella-“ He blinked as Andrew’s hand covered his mouth.

“I get it,” Andrew ground out, that pained expression back. “You don’t have to give me a list of everything you haven’t done, all right?” He glared at Death until he received a nod. “Now, just to be clear, what we did felt good, right?” He removed his hand after asking that question.

“Yes, very good,” Death assured him. “Especially the hip thing.” He paused to think for a moment while Andrew seemed to bite back on a moan. “Oh yes, and the biting. I believe I enjoy that very much, too.”

“Now I _know_ you’re Death, because you’re going to kill me,” Andrew muttered as he once more rubbed his face before looking around them for something – looking at the small table where the food and bottles of alcohol had been left. Despite that comment on his aspect, Death bit back on a smile upon seeing Andrew glare at a couple of cats who had snuck into the room at some point and were now eating the remaining cakes, which they had knocked onto the floor while the two of them had been... distracted.

Andrew opened his mouth as if to complain then just shook his head. “Whatever, just leave the damn whiskey alone, furballs,” he told them as he grabbed the one bottle then drank straight from it. After a few swallows, he set it back down and looked back at Death, who was still straddling the demi-god’s lap with his arms draped over Andrew’s shoulders. “Okay, just so we’re clear on things, you enjoy what we do with each other, right? You don’t feel like you’re being pushed too far?”

Death nodded once before he shook his head twice. “I enjoy things very much, and become very frustrated when we stop,” he admitted. “It’s rather confusing and distracting, you know, to have these thoughts all of a sudden on how much I wish you would kiss me and how I want to lick my way down your che- ah, what?” Death asked when Andrew’s hand tightened on the back of his neck.

“We are having a serious discussion,” Andrew told him in a flat voice despite the fire in his eyes. “Simple, short answers, not your usual ‘no filter’ shit, do you understand?”

“Fine,” Death huffed. “Yes. No.”

“Good,” Andrew gritted out even as his fingers slipped up into Death’s hair. “Now, you will tell me if you stop enjoying things or feel that I go too far, right?”

“Yes,” Death told him.

“All right.” Andrew stared at him for a couple of seconds before sighing and shaking his head. “You’re going to drive me crazy, I just know it.”

“I’m not Delirium,” Death stated as he tightened his arms around the demi-god.

“Not helping.” Andrew gave him a narrow look for the comment, then scoffed. “So, we take things slow and you let me know when things get ‘too good’ again, all right?”

“All right,” Death agreed. “So that means more biting?” He wanted to try it on Andrew, too.

“And there’s the ‘no filter’,” Andrew muttered even as he slid his other arm around Death’s hips and pulled him closer. “Let’s see where we end up before I have to leave tonight.”

“Okay.” Death smiled before he leaned in closer. “Yes?” he asked, before Andrew could.

“Don’t be clever, it’s annoying,” he was warned before being given an answer. “Yes,” Andrew said as he bridged the distance between them for a kiss.

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, poor Andrew's aspect might be Mania after all... that or Delirium.
> 
> Oh Neil, the eternally oblivious sinnamon bun.
> 
> This is getting SO CLOSE to being wrapped up. Two, maybe three chapters? You'll get some answers, and set up for the next part of the story. I promise.
> 
> Hmm, and there seems to be some Dragon!Andrew for Wednesday! Hopefully it won't throw me off for a Sunday post (today turned out busier than I usually like, bah).
> 
> As always, the comments and kudos are appreciated!  
> *******


	16. Death Should Know Better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it's looking like there will be one more chapter after this one - or at least, one more big chapter and maybe an epilogue. But things are really getting close to wrapping up. You'll see.  
> *******

*******

Andrew took in the dark windows of his home and had some hope that Bee was already in bed, so was quiet as he slipped inside of the house and locked the door behind him. He almost got to his bedroom when Bee’s sleepy voice called out. “I’m getting a ‘walk of shame’ vibe here.”

Dammit. “I’m not Nicky.” Andrew glared as he changed direction and went to the kitchen instead, where he found Bee seated at the table with a cup of coffee between her hands and only the light above the stove turned on. “And I’m not ashamed, just tired.”

“Oh really?” Bee studied him for a moment, her eyebrows rising above the rims of her glasses when she caught the bruise on the left side of his neck; Neil had taken evident delight in Andrew’s reaction whenever his lips had lingered on the sensitive area, the oblivious bastard. “I see that things are going well.”

“No, I had an absolutely horrid night,” Andrew told her, his tone thick with sarcasm as he fetched a bottle of water from the fridge. Well, it was almost true – it had been a bit torturous for a while there, hearing Neil talk about how he wanted Andrew and what he wanted to do to him, the unfiltered idiot. To at first believe that he had pushed too far and that Neil was panicking, and then realize that Neil had instead been overwhelmed by everything, that he needed a moment or two to take it all in before he disappeared.

Andrew forgot at times how old Neil was, that he had lived for centuries even with the talk of the Dark Ages and sword fighting and things like that, because Neil looked so damn young, because he seemed so damn clueless about so many things. The idiot might have been around for centuries, but he hadn’t really _lived_ during them, hadn’t _experienced_ that much. He’d just flitted around the whole world dealing with the dead and cats and barely talking to anyone during that entire time. No wonder Wrath and Matt and Dan worried about him so much.

He’d never wanted anyone before Andrew, never even fooled around.  What the _hell_.

“Yes, you look positively pained right now.” Bee snorted in derision as she leaned back in her seat. “Maybe it’s because of that bug bite on your neck.”

He had about half of the water before he set the bottle aside. “Come on, let’s get this over with before I go to bed. You get even more annoying when you stew on it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He met her innocent look with an annoyed one. “Oh, all right, fine.” Bee crossed her arms over her ample chest. “I just want to make sure that things are okay with you. Here I was thinking I’d have to start setting you up on blind dates or something, it’s been so long since you went out with someone, and all of a sudden you’re hanging around with this Neil and he’s wearing a collar and you’re coming home with a hickey.” She huffed a little and shook her head. “I’m used to you coming home with bruised knuckles and split lips, not hickeys.” That last came out a little plaintive, as if she was trying to figure things out and wasn’t sure if she should be thankful for the change.

“Do you _want_ me to come home with bruised knuckles and split lips?” he asked as he toyed with the lid to the bottle of water.

Bee gave him a wry smile and shook her head again. “No. And I’m not complaining, not really. I just want to make sure that you’re all right. I know that you’re strong, Andrew… but I’ve been taught to watch out for sudden changes. Now maybe it just seems sudden to me because I’m thinking of how things have always been, but I want to make sure that you feel what’s happening is right for you.”

As always, Bee was being Bee and worrying about things, was checking to see if there was something she needed to fix or talk about or analysis, something that she could make better for him. So with that in mind, he gave the question some honest thought before he answered.

“If it were anyone else but Neil… maybe you’d be right to be worried,” he admitted. “But he’s….” He scoffed a little as he tossed the lid into the sink. “In his own way he’s as fucked up as me. In some ways he’s even more fucked up.” He thought about Neil’s scars, about how he was so confused about feeling something as simple as desire and pleasure, how he didn’t understand why Dan wanted to protect him so much. Then Andrew thought about how passionate Neil could be, how stubborn, and how despite having so much power and being treated with so much awe, he still cared about stray cats and children mistreated by some bastard serial killer. “And in some ways he’s so perfect I can’t believe that he’s real.”

Things were quiet for a minute or two while he finished the water, and then Bee hummed a little. “Okay then, they do sound good.” She rubbed at her own neck while she smiled. “I always knew that you wouldn’t be bringing home some guy in a suit – well, a _business_ suit – so I shouldn’t be surprised by some cute foreign kid with no super-ego and a thing for cats and their accessories.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re enjoying that last part a bit too much.”

“Hmm, maybe I’m just jealous he can pull it off so well.” She laughed when he made a gagging sound. “Oh hush, Abby could tell you stories of what we got into at university, if she was the type to break confidences.”

“And on that note, I’m sure to have some truly horrendous nightmares,” Andrew said as he shuddered and pushed away from the counter. “Nice tactic there, it’s a great way to ensure you constantly have patients to treat.”

Bee laughed at him as she rose from the table. “It’s so wonderful to see that I raised such a polite young man. Get some sleep, you ungrateful brat. You can look forward to a bunch more people to insult tomorrow.”

“Promises, promises,” Andrew said on the way to his room, which made Bee laugh some more.

He got ready for bed, only pausing a little to take in the bruise on his neck while in the bathroom, and checked his phone for messages before going to sleep. At some point during the night, he dreamed of standing on top of the building again with Neil, of the sun setting and Neil flying away, only that time, Andrew threw himself after Neil, desperate to follow. Desperate to protect Neil from the shadows that swooped in after the idiot. Only he couldn’t catch him, could only fall through the air because he didn’t have wings of his own….

It was a damn annoying dream.

He woke up out of sorts, and not even Bee making him French toast in the morning entirely chased away the lingering sense of loss and frustration he felt deep inside. After helping her with the dishes, he took off for Neil’s apartment while she got ready to spend the day with Abby, and he was only slightly mollified to not spot any asshole stalkers dressed in black hanging around the building when he arrived.

Dan opened the door when he got upstairs, wearing what looked to be one of Matt’s sweatshirts and some very nice emerald earrings. “Not a diamond girl, are you?”

She smiled at him as she stepped aside. “I prefer the classics, what can I say?”

“And there he is! Aw, man, I wish I’d been there to see you land a strike on that bastard!” Matt declared as he came out of the kitchen with a piece of very dark toast in his left hand.

“I thought you were supposed to be compassionate,” Andrew stated while he looked around for Neil – ah, the idiot followed after Matt a moment later looking a slight bit green, which cleared up when he spotted Andrew.

“I am,” Matt declared. “I’m thinking of all the people Deception’s fucked over and how happy they’d be to know he’s suffering a little right now.”

“Try making him eat your scrambled eggs,” Neil murmured as he sidled up to Andrew with his arms folded over his abdomen as if he had a stomachache. “He’ll indeed suffer.”

Matt’s grin faltered upon hearing that. “What? I think they turned out pretty good, the peanut butter and ranch dressing really jazz them up.”

Now Dan was looking a little green. “Oh no, just _no_.” She reached over to rub Neil’s back while glaring at her obtuse boyfriend. “That’s it, no more cooking for you!”

“But-“

“We’ll take a couples’ cooking class or something, but you can’t just keep throwing stuff together and making Neil try it! No wonder he doesn’t like to eat!” Dan gave Neil’s back one more rub before stomping off into the kitchen, hopefully to throw away the vile concoction.

“I’m fine,” Neil mumbled into Andrew’s left shoulder. “Just… keep it away from the cats.”

“At least they have the sense not to try it, you idiot.” Andrew gave a tug to a strand of Neil’s hair before wrapping his arm around his idiot’s waist.

Now Matt appeared upset, which Andrew was willing to bet why Neil had tried his latest cooking disaster; he noticed that his boyfriend had a soft spot when it came to the Virtue. “But it didn’t seem so bad to me.” He raised the rather burnt piece of toast to his mouth and bit into it, a loud crunching sound filling the living room and bits of charcoal falling down onto his… okay, he was wearing a faded brown tunic.

Meanwhile, there was some loud and clearly disgusted shouting from the kitchen in an unknown language which made Matt wince and Neil twitch. “You’re going to need to get her a new crossbow,” Neil warned.

“Better than another set of earrings,” Matt said, then winced again. “Maybe.” Then he seemed to cheer up. “But she’ll want to go hunting afterwards, and that always makes her happy.”

“Are there even that many ghouls left in Paris now?” Neil asked as he shifted against Andrew enough to look at Matt. “You can’t hunt all of them.”

“We could try Prague or Rome, there’s always large nests there.” When Matt noticed that Neil was frowning, he rolled his eyes and sighed. “Don’t go all Temperance on me, all right? They’re almost as bad as trolls! It’s not as if I’m talking about hunting down dragons or anything.”

Andrew was picking up the impression that he got off easy robbing mansions and dealing with cats, from hearing what Matt and Dan did as a couple. “So just how many mythological creatures are real?” he asked as Neil straightened up a little more.

“Uhm, I think we need to determine what you consider a ‘myth’, but… humans are very good at not seeing what they don’t want to believe,” Neil said as a grim-faced Dan returned from the kitchen.

“Right now I’m trying to unsee the mess that was in the kitchen,” she muttered while giving Matt a baleful look. “You two doing anything today?”

Neil glanced over at Andrew, who shook his head. “Not after running into the bastard last night.” He didn’t want to chance Deception or Temperance following them, so it would be best to stay in for the day.

Dan’s eyes flashed dark for a moment, her expression murderous, before she managed a mostly believable smile. “Well, _we’re_ going out for some new pots and pans,” Matt groaned at that, “and will bring back something to eat when we’re done.” Then her smile took on an impish quality. “Enjoy having the place to yourself for a couple of hours,” she told them as she grabbed onto the front of Matt’s tunic.

“You’re supposed to want me for my body, not my money,” he complained as she dragged him toward the door.

“Trust me, babe, it’s all part of the package,” she assured him. “Besides, I know how much you love the home section of the store.”

That seemed to cheer up the tall Virtue. “Ooh, can I play with the gadgets? Let me-“ Fortunately the door cut him off and spared Andrew from the rest of their inanity.

He turned toward Neil, his arm still around the idiot’s waist, and decided that his boyfriend had mostly recovered from Matt’s failed cooking attempt. “Why do you even let him near the stove?”

Neil sighed and shook his head; for once he wasn’t wearing a hooded t-shirt, but a loose, pale grey sweater and dark grey cotton pants that were a little long on him. “He wanted to surprise Dan and asked me to try it. I had the foolish assumption that if it was for her, it would be better than his usual attempts.” His grimace just then made it clear just how foolish he’d been. “I’m not sure I want to eat eggs ever again.”

“Can’t say I blame you.” Andrew led him over to the couch so they could sit down. “So, feel up to that movie I mentioned yesterday?” He figured they could hang out and do normal stuff. Non-Named Ones stuff.

“All right, if you want.” Neil curled his long legs beneath him on the couch as he faced Andrew. “Or we could do more of that, ah, ‘making out’.” He cocked his head to the side. “If you want to. I much enjoyed it last night.”

Dammit, the idiot was _so_ trying to drive Andrew insane, wasn’t he? In the process of reaching for the TV’s remote, Andrew paused and shifted about to look at Neil, who was gazing at him in an expectant manner with those big blue eyes. “Do you think I came over today just to make out?”

Neil seemed to consider the question for a couple of seconds. “I think you came over to make sure I didn’t ‘do anything stupid’,” his lips pressed together after saying that in a clear sign of annoyance, “to be on hand if Deception came around and to help yourself to more alcohol. I hope you also wanted to make out some more, but I’m never quite sure what makes you want to do ‘it’ in the first place.”

The idiot didn’t know…. Andrew rubbed at the back of his neck as he thought about how he had some sort of resolve to be ‘good’ today, to not push things, to make sure that he wasn’t going too far too fast with Neil. That he wasn’t overwhelming the idiot, considering everything that had happened last night. After hearing about how Neil hadn’t done _anything_ with anyone before.

It was such a kick to the chest, knowing how much Neil wanted _him_ , wanted some fucked up kid abandoned by his own mother. Neil could have all these gods and goddesses, all these beings of power, yet he sat on some IKEA couch in a small apartment in Oakland and told Andrew that he wanted _him._ No wonder Andrew had difficulty believing it was real at times.

Even if part of him had problems accepting it, that fire inside of him urged him to grab Neil and not let go, to hold him tight. He gave into it a little as he reached out to thread his right hand through Neil’s tousled hair. “I didn’t come over here to make out with you… but I suppose we can spend a little time doing it.”

Neil shouldn’t smile like that just then, as if Andrew had given him some sort of gift. “Okay.” Neil tilted his head toward Andrew’s hand. “I mean, ‘yes’,” he breathed out as his eyes flared with silver, and Andrew felt the fire surge inside of him as he leaned forward to kiss his idiot.

That time, Neil didn’t freak out as they slowly sunk down on the couch with him beneath Andrew, his hands on Andrew’s shoulders and Andrew’s slipping slightly beneath that soft sweater. There was _so much_ that Andrew wanted to do to Neil, so much desire and _need_ twisted inside of him, yet just like the night before, he made do with stroking his hands along Neil’s chest and back, fingers sliding over smooth, cool skin and raised scars until Neil shivered beneath him. He kissed and licked and sucked along Neil’s neck and sharp jawline while the idiot gasped and moaned and stuttered out his name, then rocked up to kiss him silent.

He let Neil’s hands wander along his back and shoulders, let the fingers dig into his muscles and rub into his scalp, let Neil nuzzle and kiss his neck even though Andrew had to grit his teeth to keep from making any embarrassing sounds. All the while they rocked against each other, bodies pressed together as if space was an abhorrent thing, and only when the need and pleasure spiked too high did they still, did their hands pause and mouths pull away just enough so they could take in deep, steady breaths but they never pushed the other away or said ‘no’.

They never said ‘no’ nor did they push too far, did Neil let his hands wander past where Andrew had told him it was okay or Andrew go on when Neil would get that faint shimmer to him. While it was more than clear that Neil enjoyed what they were doing very much, he also wanted _Andrew_ to enjoy it, would smile when Andrew reacted to a nip to the neck or a light scratch to the scalp, would laugh when Andrew retaliated with a bite to _his_ neck, followed by a low moan which scrambled Andrew’s brain in the best way.

Andrew had never experienced anything like it before, someone who was so responsive to him, to his touches and kisses, who took such delight in his own responses yet never forgot his boundaries. It got so he didn’t have to be always on guard, always on the defensive and could just enjoy what he was doing, could enjoy Neil and everything for that brief time. Could trust in Neil, knowing that he was trusted in return.

At least to a point – he still had a gorgeous idiot spread out beneath him and he was only human. Well, mostly human. Something like that. When Andrew found himself grinding a bit hard against a panting Neil as he left yet another hickey above the collar, he forced himself to sit back. Neil groaned as he shook his head and reached out as if to pull Andrew back down, his eyes pure silver and face flushed. “No- why-“

“That’s it for today,” Andrew declared, his voice a bit hoarse and cracking on the words as he tried to convince _himself_ that it was for the best. Bee and Dr. Shahin would probably tell him that it was a good thing, to feel such concrete desire for another person after everything, to be able to get to such a point with another person, but all he knew was that it was too far too fast for the both of them. That Neil wouldn’t appreciate his roommates walking in on him being basically humped on the couch, that Neil deserved better.

Maybe even Andrew deserved better, if he wanted more out of this than a quick jack-off session.

Neil’s brows drew together as if he wanted to protest, to argue, and then he slumped forward to rest his forehead against Andrew’s right shoulder as he grabbed onto Andrew’s now wrinkled black t-shirt. “How… I don’t….” He drew in a couple of short, sharp breaths as he seemed to struggle for something to say; during that time, Andrew combed his fingers through the idiot’s tangled curls. “It’s so _powerful_. I just… I don’t want you to stop.”

“Yeah, so I did.” Andrew watched as Neil pulled back enough to look up at him, as his eyes returned to normal and he took to biting into his bottom lip. “I told you, someone has to look after an idiot like you.”

“Why are the Fates doing this to me?” Neil whined as he rubbed at his face with his right hand a couple of times, then looked up at Andrew again; he was once more half sprawled onto Andrew’s lap, his hair a mess and sweater disheveled, and neck ringed by more than the collar. “Thank you.”

Andrew arched an eyebrow at that. “For what?”

“For doing what you think is best for me, even if you’re a _scoundrel_.” There was a hint of a smile on Neil’s face as he said the last word.

Andrew dumped the idiot onto the floor for that – or tried to, since Neil vanished halfway and reappeared behind the couch, laughing. Andrew caught him before he could disappear again and dragged him down onto the couch, where they stretched out once again, Andrew pressed against the back of it and Neil held firm against his chest.

“Hmm, I thought we had stopped,” the idiot murmured.

“We did.” Andrew leaned up a little and reached over to grab the remote before settling back down, his head propped up on a pillow; he was a little surprised at how comfortable it felt, to lie like this with Neil, but it wasn’t like they hadn’t been all in each other’s personal space lately and Neil was good at being still. “We’re going to watch movies now.”

“Ah, all right.” Neil settled a little more against Andrew as if to get comfortable then relaxed. “More improbable violence and swearing?”

“Hopefully something a bit better.” Andrew turned on the television and checked to see what was on cable, and settled on the first Avengers movie since it should be banal enough to keep the idiot from having fits yet help him a bit with catching up with the times – he’d save the Princess Bride for another time. Neil would ask a question here or there and scoffed over the interpretations of Thor and Loki, but for the most part seemed to enjoy the movie better than the Tarantino ones.

Andrew was debating on if they should watch the second movie (did he want to bring up the whole Hydra/Nazi thing?) or perhaps watch Iron Man instead when Matt and Dan returned with a couple of shopping bags and what looked to be sushi. “We’re back! Are you two decent?” Matt grinned as he came into the living room. “Damn, I lost fifty bucks.”

Dan gave him a displeased look as she set the bags of take-out down on the coffee table while Neil and Andrew sat up. “I told you Andrew wouldn’t be treating Neil like that.”

Oh? That was news to Andrew. “Funny, because you keep _threatening_ me,” Andrew remarked as he searched through the bags to see what they’d brought home. Hmm, sashimi, a bunch of maki rolls, some tempura, edamame and what looked to be spicy peanut noodles, not bad.

“I know it because I haven’t scared you off yet,” Dan told him with a pleased grin as she glanced back and forth between him and a quiet Neil. “You’re determined and protective, so that means you’ll treat my boy right.”

“ _What_?” Neil asked. “I just…” He fell quiet as he shook his head then buried his face in his hands.

“I’ll go get the alcohol,” Matt told him, a look of sympathy on his face as he patted his friend on the back.

“Are you going to bother eating any of this or what?” Andrew asked as he started helping himself to the food. “I’m hungry.”

“When aren’t you?” Neil asked, the words a bit muffled as he was still hiding his face. Then he sighed when he was jabbed in the side with chopsticks and glared at Andrew before glancing at the growing pile of food in front of them and snatched up a platter of sashimi; Dan grinned at that for some reason.

Matt went into the kitchen and returned with a couple bottles of alcohol and some cups, so Andrew had some whiskey to go with his meal. He was in the middle of eating the noodles when the black and grey cats came trotting into the living room, right up to the couch where they jumped up next to Neil who had been picking at his slices of fish. Dan started laughing when Andrew sighed at the idiot offering some of the raw fish to the cats. "You should have expected it," she said from her spot on the loveseat, tucked next to a grinning Matt.

"I suppose." He nudged Neil in the side. "I'm not sharing any of mine."

"I don't expect you to," Neil said as he kept what looked to be a piece of mackerel for himself. "Are we going to watch another movie?"

"Do you want to?" Andrew asked as he set the empty container aside and picked up what looked to be spicy salmon rolls; the grey cat perked up its ears in interest, but Neil gave it a slice of tuna instead.

"Hmm." Neil chewed on a piece of ginger while he considered the question. "They're so loud and confusing."

"I know something you might like." Dan motioned for Andrew to throw her the remote, which he did, and after a minute or two of searching through the Netflix queue, she started an old black and white movie about some 'Baby'. Neil took to leaning  against Andrew with the cats curled up in his lap while Andrew finished his food then enjoyed some more whiskey, his right arm draped over Neil's shoulders... and had to admit that it was a good afternoon. The movie was funny, was some ridiculous story about dinosaur bones and leopards and mistaken identity which made Neil smile and murmur to the cats while Matt laughed and Dan giggled, and afterward the two Virtues told stories about their various escapades with Neil over the years, with Neil commenting from time to time (sometimes to complain, sometimes not, but Andrew noticed that Neil smiled most of the time, the expression slight but there) while everyone but Neil (and the cats) drank. It was a time when Andrew felt accepted for once, when the people he was with didn't mind that he preferred to be there but not talk that much, didn't mind his acerbic humor when he did.

It figured that when he finally found a group of people he mostly fit in, they weren't human.

When Matt talked about ordering something else to eat, Andrew gave a reluctant nudge to Neil's side. "I have to get going, there's some stuff I need to do for class tomorrow."

"All right." Neil gave the cats a gentle stroke to make them jump from his lap then stood up. "So I'll see you at work tomorrow?"

"Yes." Andrew reached onto the coffee table for his keys, cigarettes and phone before he stood up as well. "I'll probably be too busy the next couple of nights to do anything," he warned, mindful of some exams and papers he had coming up; he'd been spending most of his free time with Neil lately and had to get a few things done.

"Okay." Neil didn't appear too happy about that, but he didn't complain. "I can always-"

"Not alone," Andrew reminded the idiot.

Dan had gotten up from the loveseat and came over to the two of them. "One of us can go with him," she offered while Neil had taken to glaring at Andrew. "It's not a problem."

"I'm not a child," Neil muttered.

"You're worse, you're an idiotic trouble magnet," Andrew reminded him. "So behave."

That earned him something in an indecipherable language, which he put a stop to by grabbing the key on Neil’s collar and pulling him in for a quick kiss. Then he left a blinking idiot and chuckling Dan to head to the door while Matt called out 'goodbye'.

He thought he caught a glimpse of Temperance as he unlocked his car, but the bastard was gone when he turned for a better look.

The warm glow he'd felt from a good day spent with Neil slipped away, replaced with the fierce burn of the need to protect, to attack. Andrew lit a cigarette while he leaned against his car for a few seconds, and blew out a plume of smoke as he thought with a rare sense of regret about how his aim had been a bit off the other day when he'd landed a blow on Deception. Next time, he'd make sure it was across the bastard's neck.

*******

After Andrew left for the evening, Death went to sit in the window of his room to enjoy the slight, cool breeze with the grey cat on his lap. He was telling her about some of the creatures in the ocean - much to her dubious belief - when Charity appeared, dressed in a frayed golden sweater and ripped jeans and holding a calico cat in his arms, which he set down on the metal landing. "I got your message."

Death nodded to the Virtue and then the cat, which jumped up on the sill and then into the room. "I see. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Charity's demeanor was formal for all of about three seconds, and then he let out a quick breath as he pushed back the blond curls falling onto his eyes and leaned against the metal railing. "Okay, what is it? It's not often you seek me out - usually you tell me to go away." Bright blue eyes stared intently at him. "Is it my end?"

"I don't tend to make people come to me if it is," Death pointed out as he scratched the grey cat's chin. "It's my understanding that you watch out for your fellow Virtues, yes?"

"Yes," Charity agreed, and then he frowned as he gripped the railing on either side of him, his expression now stern. "Wait, is this about one of _them_ coming to an end?"

There was a reason why Death usually had little to do with the man - well, several, but this was one of them, he thought with a shallow sigh. "No, not at the moment. I wanted to talk to you about Temperance."

Once again, Charity's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward a little - he couldn't approach too much because of the wards and he was nowhere near a match for Death, but he seemed to try to be intimidating, the fool. "What about him? Do you know why he's been avoiding me the last couple of decades?"

"I imagine it might have something to do with the sigil Deception carved into his chest." Death didn't see any reason why he should draw things out and came right out with the problem.

"Wait, _what_?" Charity's eyes went wide for a moment, then narrowed once more while flashing with gold the same time as his strong jaw clenched. "You're telling me that the bastard managed to get a _sigil_ on him?"

Had he not spoke clear enough? "Those were the words I used - do I need to speak them in another language? Gaelic this time? Spanish perhaps? Or sign language since your hearing seems to be failing."

Charity rubbed his hand over his face while muttering beneath his breath. "You... okay, I'm now remembering why you and cats get along so damn well." He gave Death a tired look and got a blank one in return for that comment. "Deception put a sigil on Temperance."

"Yes." This was so bothersome.

"And you know that how?"

"Because Temperance told me." Death fought the urge to roll his eyes and continued to pet the grey cat. "How else would I know?"

"He told you." Charity did some more face rubbing and muttering. "Okay, for now we'll focus on the fact that the bastard is able to control Temperance."

"Yes, that is the point of this." After all of this was said and done, Death looked forward to avoiding everyone but his uncle and Andrew for a very long time.

"And not that he didn't come to me for help," Charity continued in a louder voice while giving Death an annoyed look for some reason. "So I assume the bastard is still trying to get at you?"

"Yes." Death felt some annoyance of his own.

"All right." The Virtue was quiet for about a minute as he studied Death. "Huh, so I take it that the new look you're sporting is because of Deception?" He nodded toward Death - to Death's neck, to be exact. "I've been hearing a lot about it lately, about you hanging out with some uppity demi-god who doesn't know his place."

"I don't... what, do you mean Andrew?" Why were people talking about Andrew?

"If that's the demi-god's name." Charity grinned as he rested his elbows on the railing. "He must be something for you to bother with him, considering you barely give Compassion the time of day.”

“He’s none of their business,” Death insisted, displeased with the thought of other Named Ones being interested in Andrew – their ‘interest’ wasn’t always a good thing. Considering how they often saw humans and demi-gods as playthings? No, their interest wasn’t good at all.

Charity’s grin slipped as he seemed to think something along those lines. “Well, ah, if he can take on Deception, he has to be powerful.” Then he seemed to think about something else. “But Deception….” Once more his eyes flared a deep gold and all sense of good humor left him. “He’s gone too far, to put a vigil on Temperance like that. It can’t stand.”

Death wondered if it would occur to the Virtue that Deception intended to do the same to him, but decided to let the matter lie for the moment. “It’s a sigil, there’s not much you can do about it while Deception exists.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Charity stepped away from the railing and nodded at him. “Here’s where we find out, no?” Then he stepped _between_ , while Death stared off into the space where he’d stood for a minute or two.

That had gone… well, Death had hoped that Charity would be concerned for Temperance, since the man tended to watch out for his fellow Virtues. He hadn’t expected Charity to basically agree to step in like that, to attempt to free Temperance, just do something to distract Temperance and possibly keep him from being used by Deception at an inopportune moment.

If Charity managed to free Temperance, it wouldn’t be a bad thing, not at all.

If Charity managed to cause Deception some harm in the process, even better. But Death wouldn’t count himself so lucky in that regard – the prick was clever and powerful and good at making others suffer in his wake.

He was very good at making _Death_ suffer.

Death shivered at that thought, until the cat let out a plaintive meow to ask him if he was all right. He assured her that he was and got up from the window, having decided that perhaps it wasn’t good to be alone with his thoughts just then. He missed Andrew as much as he missed being able to just slip _between_ and go wherever he wanted, but both things were denied him at the moment so he’d see if perhaps Courage could put on another of those ‘old’ movies for him to watch.

*******

Tisiphone showed up at the Laughing Fox on Tuesday, along with Aglaia; Andrew shivered a little upon her arrival while Nicky let out a gleeful shout, and Neil finished fussing with things during the slight lull in customers. "So you're the girlfriend?" Nicky asked as Aglaia - Allison - all but preened at the attention.

"You could say that." She flashed a wicked grin at a stunned Matt's direction. "Didn't see that coming, did you?"

"No, I didn't, but I'm happy for you," he told her as he quickly recovered. "I'm happy for you both." That declaration brought out a shy smile from Tisiphone for some reason.

"Thank you. A chamomile tea and a double expresso, please," she ordered, while Nicky fussed over Aglaia's expensive looking black dress. Once she paid for the drinks, she came over toward Andrew, so he left Neil to make them and leaned against the counter to talk to her. "You look well."

"You do, too." She was wearing a pale pink sundress with a cream sweater over it, something that looked as if Aglaia might have bought it considering the fine embroidery and rich fabric. "Out on a date?"

"Something like that." Her gaze flickered back to Neil. "How are things going with the two of you?"

"They go." Andrew didn't want to talk about things with Neil too much, but Tisiphone must have picked up on his even tone or the fact that Neil was still wearing the collar that things were good between them even though Andrew wasn't able to spend much time with his idiot that week because of his coursework since she smiled.

"I'm happy to hear that." She smiled some more when Neil brought over the drinks. "I ran into your uncle the other day. I think we're both doing the same thing, keeping an eye on your father."

Andrew caught the way that Neil stilled at the mention of his father, then he continued to set the drinks on the counter. "I'd wondered why I hadn't heard from him lately."

"He asked about you and I told him that you were doing fine." There was a slight quirk to the Fury's lips now. "Though I did keep one or two things to myself."

Neil sighed as he twisted the key hanging from the collar about between his fingers. "Thank you. I'm sure he'll handle the news... uhm, well, perhaps I can avoid him for a short while. Maybe a few decades or something like that." He ducked his head enough that the hood slipped farther down his forehead.

"So frightening you are," Andrew said with a heavy dose of sarcasm as he gave his idiot's nape a quick squeeze.

"Well, he does this thing where he stands there with his eyes all squinty and his lips pressed together and-" Neil just shook his head.

"He does have a presence," Tisiphone agreed as she picked up the drinks.

"Go figure." The man was just _Wrath_ after all.

Since more customers had come in, Tisiphone joined her girlfriend at a table and left them to get back to work (well, Neil to get back to work); Andrew was somewhat amused to see a leery Wymack come out at one point to talk to the two women, his reserve slowly melting away the longer he spent with them.

"You weren't kidding about gods being afraid of her, were you?" Andrew asked Neil while he finished putting whipped cream on a couple of frappuccino.

"Hmm?" Neil glanced over at the three then nodded. "She's very powerful, and there’s the whole justice thing.”

“Has Wymack ever done anything to make him have to worry about her?”

“Wymack?” Neil looked at the god for a moment again and shook his head, yet his expression was a bit pensive. “Not… not really.” He started on another drink, and sighed when Andrew snatched it away.

“That’s not a ‘no’,” Andrew pointed out as he put a lot of whipped cream on _his_ iced mocha then slipped in a straw. “Explain.”

“There was an incident with a goddess he was involved with at one point – he took her death very hard and… well.” Neil shrugged as he remade the drink, his face carefully blank as he measured out the expresso and milk. “He seemed to come to his senses before he did anything too regrettable.”

Andrew thought about that a little. “Huh, so he got it on with someone other than Abby. That’s disturbing.”

“I don’t-“ Neil sighed as he finished the drink. “I never thought about these things before.” He gave Andrew a displeased look as if blaming _him_ for that change. “I agree about the disturbing part, but still disagree about this all being a reward from the Fates.”

“Of course you do,” Andrew said as he flicked the idiot on the tip of his nose since his forehead was covered. “You’re an idiot.” He felt like smiling when Neil stomped over to hand the poor customer her drink while muttering in what sounded to be Russian, and nearly gave the girl a heart-attack when he slammed down the drink.

He enjoyed riling Neil up that evening, only to have his idiot boyfriend become all soft and pliant in the back room when they clocked out, hands clutching at his shoulders and lips brushing along the underside of his jaw before Andrew tugged on a handful of hair to make Neil let out a low moan and tilt back his head so Andrew could nuzzle along the leather collar which felt so warm with his power even then, so he could leave a new mark before he had to go home and work on some damn stupid paper.

“Nn… ‘drew….” Neil sighed when Andrew pulled away, his eyes glowing bright and damp lips turned down in a pout; Andrew had to force himself to take another step away instead of closer. “I believe I am being dragged off to a festival of some sorts tomorrow.”

Andrew frowned upon hearing that. “With Matt or Dan?”

“Both,” Neil assured him. “Perhaps there will be some poisoning this time. Or elephants.” He seemed oddly all right with those possibilities.

Despite himself, Andrew smiled as he reached out to tug on the key. “We need to work on your ideas of a good time.” Again, despite himself, he tugged Neil closer for one more kiss. “I should have some free time come Thursday.” He’d turn in his last paper then and he didn’t have any tests on Friday.

“I suppose I shall have to find another larcenous scoundrel to spend the time with until then,” Neil said, for a moment his expression and tone so blank that Andrew almost bought it – almost. Yet there were the silver sparks in his eyes as he stared at Andrew, and he’d taken to tugging on the key instead of his hood.

“Just for that, you’re gonna have to come up with something better than noodles or fried octopus for our next meal,” Andrew warned as he shoved a certain idiot out of the room. “That smart mouth of yours has just cost you.”

“Yes, yes, I’m used to it with you.”

Andrew didn’t stop until they got up front and he could push Neil at a laughing Matt. “Keep him on a tight leash until Thursday.”

“Well, it helps that he has that shiny new collar and all,” Matt remarked with a grin, at least until Neil gave him a cold look. “What? You’re wearing a _collar_. I can’t go there?”

“Does that mean I can bring up some of the things _you’ve_ worn?” Neil asked in a deceptively quiet voice.

For some reason Matt’s face flushed bright red. “But… they were perfectly fashionable for the time!”

“I seem to remember a certain wig you were reluctant to-“

“All right! Don’t bring it up, Dan still has nightmares about it,” Matt muttered while he rubbed at the back of his head. “I just… I thought it made me look distinguished.”

Judging from Neil’s expression just then, the Virtue was gravely mistaken. “Whatever,” Andrew told Matt, “I expect him to be returned to me in the same condition on Thursday.”

That seemed to restore Matt’s good mood while Neil sighed. “Got it!” Matt gave Andrew a salute while motioning ahead of him to the door. “Come on, Morty, your chariot awaits.”

“If only, instead of that blue monstrosity.”

“Aw, you’re not giving it a chance,” Matt chided Neil as they went out to the parking lot, while Andrew looked around for Nicky; he found his cousin sitting down texting and went to fetch the pest.

He got to listen to Nicky complain about how unfair it was to deal with stuff for their classes when there were so much better things to do (like Erik, apparently), which Andrew basically ignored; they didn’t have much longer left in the semester, and Nicky until he graduated. Just a few more weeks and Nicky could spend the summer hanging out with Erik when he wasn’t working, and Andrew….

How much longer would Neil be around? Would he leave once Deception got the message and fucked off? Would he continue to work at the Laughing Fox when he wasn’t even being paid? Andrew hated how there was so much uncertainty around Neil.

He could always _ask_ … Right. Even though Neil seemed inclined to tell the truth, Andrew wasn’t certain that he wanted to hear the answer – what if he was told that Neil didn’t plan to stay around very long?

Bee had dinner ready for them when they got home, just some grilled cheese sandwiches and soup, something quick since she’d worked all day and knew they had to study before going to bed. Still, it was clear that she was happy that the three of them were together that evening, that there was the familiar Nicky whining about Andrew being mean to him and Bee being the eternal mediator. Even Andrew felt some of his fears calm at being surrounded by his cousin and his adopted mother, at the warm sense of _home_.

He might not know what lay in store of him when it came to Neil, but _this_ at least had proven itself as reliable.

The paper was finished a bit before midnight, which meant he could get a decent night’s sleep before going to class the next day. _Could_. Except that the damn dream of Neil flying away and him falling still plagued him, still had to make him wake up at some point during the night upset. It kept changing a little, kept adding things, and that night as he hurtled to the ground, he thought he heard a voice similar to Tisiphone’s tell him to call out… to call out _something_ as pain shot through his back.

He was a bit out of sorts that morning, not that Nicky cared since he spent most of the ride to campus texting with Erik. Andrew debated sending a text to Neil, but decided it would be too much temptation at the moment; he couldn’t get the thought of Neil leaving, of something chasing after him, out of his head and probably would ditch class to go see if the idiot was all right if he had the slightest excuse. So he stuck to his routine, he worked out and had something to eat and then took the test he’d studied for the last couple of days and turned in the paper.

With his classes done for the day, all that was left was his appointment with Dr. Shahin. He still hadn’t entirely made up his mind if he should cancel his sessions with her – she had been odd that one time and he didn’t entirely trust her, but he hadn’t found a new psychiatrist yet and he figured he needed a good reason to give Bee why he didn’t want to _see_ Shahin anymore. That meant for the time being, he continued with the weekly appointments.

The lobby for Dr. Shahin’s office was strangely empty, and the woman was waiting for him in the door to her office. “Andrew, come in.” She was dressed up that day in what looked to be a gold cocktail dress and high heels, her hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail.

“Slow day today?”

“I have plans after our session,” she explained as she motioned for him to sit down. He thought he felt something like an odd itch as he sank down in the chair, but she was motioning to him with her pen and caught his attention. “So, how are you doing today? You look well.” She smiled as she spoke, but it seemed false somehow, was too polite.

“Fine,” he told her as he struggled to get comfortable in the chair; for some reason it felt hard even though it was the same padded chair he’d always sat in.

“That’s good. And how is work? Classes still going well?” She stared at him with such heavy intent that he felt as if he’d somehow gotten something smeared on him, had dropped food on his shirt during lunch or _something_.

“Work is work, Wymack is still annoying and school’s busy but all right. I’m still on track to make the dean’s list this semester.” He noticed movement off to the side and was surprised to see a cat of all things on the windowsill peering into the office. It stared back at him, its eyes huge and blue, before it jumped down from the sill.

Dr. Shahin tapped the pen in her right hand against the notepad resting on her lap. “That’s good.” It sounded like rote words just then. “And what about that one coworker of yours? The idiot?”

 _That_ again. “I thought we agreed that he wasn’t worth mentioning,” Andrew remarked in a blank tone.

The pen tapped harder against the pad. “No, you went on the defensive when I brought him up, so I let the matter rest at that moment.” Her eyes flared gold as she gazed at him. “ _I_ happen to think he’s very important.”

“Good for you,” Andrew sneered. “He’s an idiot, nothing more.”

Dr. Shahin went still for a second or two, and then the pen hit the notepad even harder. “Is that what you truly believe? That he’s not important?”

“He’s _nothing_ ,” Andrew said, unwilling to discuss Neil with her and growing both suspicious and furious that she kept bringing him up. “You’re wasting your time on this.”

The room was quiet save for the staccato beat of the pen against paper, and then Shahin let out a harsh breath. “He’s not _nothing_ ,” she hissed, her eyes flaring bright and her face twisted into a mask of rage. “If anyone here is _nothing_ , it’s _you_!” She threw the pen and paper aside and spat out something in a foreign language. “Gutter-bred filth like you shouldn’t even _look_ upon him, let alone _touch_ him!”

The fire inside of Andrew raged in response at the power coiled opposite of him, at the new threat, but when he went to jump up from the chair he found himself unable to move. “What the hell?!”

Dr. Shahin stalked toward him, her eyes burning and skin aglow as if an inner light was pouring forth the inside of her body. “You’ll never be able to taint him with your filth again!” She raised her hand as if to strike him, but he held her gaze and made her take a stumbling step back. “I... he’ll be all right now,” she said as she shook her head and ran out of the office. “ _We’ll_ make sure of it.”

“He’s already all right!” Andrew shouted after her, not that he thought it would do any good; was Shahin obsessed with Neil or something? How the hell had Andrew not picked up on her being a Named One? What had she done to him? Was it a ward?

Furious at being tricked and upset at some lunatic possibly going after Neil, he fought to get out of the chair, to do _something_ , but couldn’t budge. Neil and Wrath and the others hadn’t told him how to break a ward, just that one could do it if they were more powerful than the person who had cast it. Did that mean that Shahin was more powerful than him?

He struggled for what felt like an hour or two (though he had no way of knowing), when all of a sudden the Siamese cat from the window earlier came strolling into the office, followed by a woman wearing a form-fitting white tank dress which showed off her dark gold skin and long, graceful limbs. It took Andrew a moment to recognize her as Bastet, from the weird lodge in Germany. “Try to whammy me, too, and I swear I will _gut_ you somehow.” He’d do it, even if took him years to track her down once he was free of the fucking chair.

Bastet laughed at the threat, that same low, raspy laugh from before as she approached the chair with her hands on her hips, the thick, golden bracelets on her arms clinking together. “I don’t doubt it for a moment. Now be quiet while I figure out what type of binding spell my sister put on that chair, hmm?” She tapped her right forefinger, tipped with a very long and well-manicured nail, against her full and glossy lips as she came a little closer and seemed to look at something.

Andrew forced himself to be quiet while she studied the ‘binding’, and after about a minute he felt another weird ‘itch’ and could move again. “Dammit!” He finally jumped up, which made the cat hiss at him while it curled around Bastet’s feet, and pulled out his phone so he could call Neil – only to find out that his phone was dead. “The hell?”

“Ah, I see she was thorough, wasn’t she?” Bastet nodded as she sat on Shahin’s desk, her legs crossed in a prim manner.

He barely resisted the urge to throw the phone aside and went for the one on Shahin’s desk instead; of fucking course it was dead, too. “How did you know to come here?”

“And ‘you’re welcome’.” She smiled in the face of his glare. “That’s okay, our kind isn’t big on ‘thank you’s, I get it. As for your explanation….” Her smile slipped and she sighed as the cat jumped up onto her lap. “Isis and I were together when we heard that Death had accepted a token from his demi-god lover. She didn’t take the news very well, and when I realized that she knew who that ‘lover’ was....” Bastet rubbed the purring cat’s ears as she shook her head.

Andrew stared at her for a moment then clicked his tongue. “No wonder Neil seemed to like you.”

“’Neil’, hmm?” Bastet smiled a little at that. “Yes, I thought you would be good for him, there had to be a reason he chose you when he’s never been interested in anyone all these years.”

“Well, it was a good thing you had your friend there watching her. Isis. Whoever.” Andrew gave Bastet a two-finger salute before he spun around to leave the office, intent to be on his way over to Neil’s to check on his idiot. He didn’t know what Shahin was going to do, but he didn’t trust it to be good.

He had just reached the parking lot when his phone – his dead phone – rang. Pausing for a moment, he dug the device out of his pocket and noticed that it was a call from Abby before he answered it, a cold dread warring with the fire churning in his core. "What is it?"

"Andrew? Bless the Three that I got through to you at last," Abby babbled. "It's Bee, she's gone."

He wavered on his feet as her frantic words tore through him, his left hand reaching out to rest on the Nissan. "What do you mean, she's gone?"

"All I know is Dr. Shahin came here to talk to her about something and they both disappeared!" Abby sounded near tears just then. "No one can find either of them, and the quick reading I did," her breath hitched for a moment, which did nothing to calm Andrew's temper, "it's not good."

"I think I can figure that out. Did you know about Shahin?" he asked as he yanked the car door open.

Abby was quiet as he slid into the car and started the engine. "I thought... she's the goddess of protection," Abby explained, her voice weak. "I didn't think that-"

"Yeah, I can tell." Andrew hung up on the witch, unwilling to listen to anything else. For a moment he was torn between rushing off to the hospital or Neil's apartment, and then common sense kicked in - it wouldn't do him any good to go to either place, would it? Bee wasn't at work anymore, and if Shahin had taken her....

Neil had warned him, dammit. Still, Andrew tried to call Neil since whatever Abby had done to his phone had fixed it, and cursed when it went into voicemail. Just how had Deception gotten to his shrink? It had to be Deception, since Shahin had never done anything to Andrew or Bee before that bastard had shown up and made threats.

Rage tore through Andrew, made him want to grab something and rip it apart, to break it down until it was nothing but tiny pieces. Made him want to find Deception and hurt him, to drive his knives in deep and twist them. He struggled against the intense emotion, the overwhelming need so he could think, could-

Tisiphone.

Andrew fought to hold on to that name, to push back the anger and the need to find Neil so he could focus on the Fury. He gritted his teeth together as he regained control, then forced the name out, spoke it aloud. He spoke it again, and had just uttered it a third time when there was a shiver in the air beside him and Tisiphone appeared seated in the car.

"You called me." She sounded surprised at first, and then seemed to notice him, how he clutched at the steering wheel, how he was hunched over as if in pain. " _Oh_." She fussed with the overlarge pale blue cardigan she wore over a cream skirt. "What's happened?"

"Deception." The word came out low and harsh, filled with so much loathing and anger. "He has Bee. He has Neil."

She was quiet for a moment while her eyes flared red and a hint of fangs peeked past her thin lips. "Well then, shall we go?" She held out her left hand to him.

He looked at it for a moment before he turned off the car engine accepted it. "Yeah."

"Then think of Neil, focus on him, and we'll find him."

That he could do. He nodded to show that he understood as he let thoughts of Neil fill his head, of the shy smile that Neil would give him at times, the way that silver starlight would overtake those striking blue eyes, the feel of soft hair between his fingers and cool skin beneath his palms. The way that the idiot could exasperate and floor him at the same time, could be so honest and oblivious and infuriating and heartbreaking with just a few words.

The way he looked at Andrew as if Andrew - someone so messed up and broken and worthless - was the most important thing in the world. The _only_ thing in the world.

"Ah, yes, I think that's it," Tisiphone murmured, and then the world dissolved around them.

*******

Death stared at the clothes on the bed that Courage had left out for him and sighed. "I don't see why it matters, either," he told the black cat who was batting at a printed t-shirt he hadn't even known he owned - he suspected that Courage had bought it while out on one of her recent shopping trips.

The grey cat commented that it was much easier to just have fur, so why didn't he grow some?

"Hmm, very true, but I don't think that will work in this situation. I believe she's trying to help me blend in, which fur won't... well, humans are very weird," he tried to explain.

That was something both cats could agree on.

He was supposed to be dressed and ready to go by the time Courage and Compassion returned from their... to be honest, he hadn't paid attention to where they'd said they were going, just like he was uncertain where they were going for the festival. Somewhere in Peru? Or was it Uruguay? Was it even in South America? Hmm, he supposed that he'd find out soon enough.

He'd just worked up the courage (the irony of it all didn't escape him) to pick up the clothes on the bed when there was a brush of power against the wards, which made him spin around to find Temperance standing on the metal landing outside the window, the Virtue's expression grim. "Ah, I assume you didn't come here to talk about Oscar Wilde," Death said as the grey cat jumped into his arms and hissed, while the black cat curled up at his feet.

"No, I'm afraid not." Temperance's right hand pressed against his chest, his fingers pale against his black sweater. "I've come bearing a message."

"And what would that be?"

"If you want the human mother of your mongrel to remain unharmed, you'll come with me," Temperance told him with evident regret. "Deception gave me a certain time to fetch you before he-" The Virtue shook his head, his demeanor now upset. "Please, come with me."

"I see." Death knew that Deception would have no issues in harming Betsy Dobson, and there would be no consequences for his actions. There never was.

Death looked down at the cat in his arms and the one curled up at his feet. "My apologies, but I must ask something of you," he told them, and a pair of blue and green eyes stared back at him for several seconds before blinking in assent. Heartened by their selflessness, he allowed a tiny part of his Aspect, of his power, to merge into their being, and for a moment both felines glowed silver before the light seemed to sink into their bodies. However, a slight gleam remained in their eyes as they continued to stare up at him. "Go to the golden one and tell him that he's needed now," he told the black cat, which blinked once before she unfurled and stalked away, slipping _between_ before she reached the wall. Then he gave the grey cat a gentle stroke. "Find Courage and Compassion, please." She butted her head against his hand before she leapt from his arms, and was _between_ before she reached the ground.

Temperance watched all of that with an awed sort of fascination which he soon schooled to an impressive aloofness. "They won't be able to help you, you know."

"We shall see," Death said as he grasped the key which hung around his neck with his left hand while he approached the window. "Regardless, it's no concern of yours. Now, shall we go? I believe there's an _apenaaier_ waiting for us."

Temperance's aloof mask crumpled for a moment. "I'm... I'm sorry," he told Death as he climbed out the window. "Let's go."

Death allowed the Virtue to grab onto the sleeve of his grey t-shirt and pull him _between,_ toward Deception.

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the next chapter is it! The big reveal!
> 
> I just wanna write more Heartlines....
> 
> As always, much thanks for the kudos and comments.  
> *******


	17. Death Gets a Bit Sassy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, another Wednesday posting! And I was wrong, this isn't going to be finished with chapter 17. Looks like there will be another chapter/epilogue after this. I'm planning on getting it up by Sunday (unless that turns into too busy of a day, and then it'll be Monday). But it's SO CLOSE to being finished.
> 
> But that's just the FIRST PART of this story. Remember, there's a second story after this.  
> *******

*******

Temperance took Death to what appeared to an incomplete house; it was under construction, Death realized as he gazed at the walls without glass windows and the doorless entrances and bits of materials scattered about (drywall and 2x4’s and plywood, memories of the dead told him). An unfinished home where Deception hoped to bring an end to something that had been started millennia ago, how ironic.

Deception leaned against one of the completed walls with a smug grin on his face, dressed all in black with a red tie around his neck, while Betsy Dobson sat hunched over on the floor, probably held in some sort of binding spell. Her glasses were askew on her face and her grey-streaked brown hair was tousled, the white coat over her dark blue dress in disarray, and her angry expression changed into amazement for a moment as Death and Temperance came into the large, open area. Her eyes widened even more when she recognized him. Off to the side stood Isis, of all gods, her expression hopeful.

“Neil?”

“Not quite,” Deception said, his voice just as smug and annoying as his expression. “Someone’s been lying to you, it seems. You’ve been very honored, little bug,” he sneered at the woman. “Death’s come to your house.”

“You shouldn’t have involved her,” Death told the bastard. “She’s an innocent in all of this.”

Anger twisted Deception’s face until it matched the true nature of his Aspect. “She is associated with that mongrel! That half-breed who dared to touch you!” he shouted. “Who dared to touch _me_!” He held up his right hand, which was red and swollen, the cut that Andrew had scored against it still raw and barely healed.

Death felt some satisfaction upon that sight while next to him, Temperance shuddered and let go of his arm to step aside. “He did warn you not to touch me,” Death said with a slight smile. “You only have yourself to blame.”

While Deception snarled in inarticulate rage, Isis stepped forward, her dress glimmering with every movement. “He’s right, the demi-god should never have touched you, should never have overstepped his reach. We’ll make things better now.” She offered him a wavering smile as she held out her hand while Betsy called her a lying bitch.

Death regarded the goddess with utter disdain as he grew certain that she had something to do with Betsy being there, judging from the woman’s reaction, and had to wonder if she’d done something to Andrew as well. “You sided with _Deception_ ,” he said as his Aspect flowed out, which made Betsy moan and Isis flinch; Temperance hurried over to shield the mortal, but Isis had no choice but to face him. “You believed his lies because of… why?”

Isis shook her head as the blood drained from her complexion. “Andrew wasn’t worthy of you, he’s still so _mortal_. You deserve someone who knows about your true glory, your power and-“ She cried out as Death took a step closer with his Aspect unleashed some more, and huddled in on herself.

“ _This_ is my ‘power’ and my true self,” he told her while Temperance draped himself over Betsy some more and even Deception looked aside. “And Andrew accepts it. Andrew isn’t frightened by it.” He could hear all of the voices of those who were passing over just then, could catch glimpses of their lives, of their beings. Could be so many places just then if he wanted, could know so much, could feel the weight of _so many lives_. So many lives he held the endings to, endings he ensured were met, endings which were under _his_ power. He knew Isis’ ending, knew the exact moment and circumstance and he reached for it while looking her in the eyes. All it would take was one thought and he could change it, could make it so much worse, could make it unbearable – and she knew it, looking back at him. He wouldn’t even be breaking the Rules, by doing it, if it was still her proper time.

And if it wasn’t her proper time? Well, she had just meddled with him, hadn’t she? Arguments could be made that it was owed, and she was so much _lesser_.

Like a demi-god was to her, so was she to him.

With that knowledge between them now, shared in that one look, he spoke. “I never want to see you again. Never cross my path again, or that of Andrew Dobson and his family. _Never_.”

Isis let out ragged sob, her expression one of heartbreak and desolation, before she fled _between_.

Temperance was still bent over a crouched Betsy Dobson and murmuring in French while Deception held his right hand cradled to his chest, his dark eyes wild and thin lips pressed together. “Rein it in, _Abram_ ,” he called out. “Do it now.”

Death didn’t feel anything at the command, didn’t feel any compulsion at the use of his old name, but he supposed he should do it if only for the sake of Temperance and Andrew’s mother. “You shouldn’t have involved Isis in this, either,” he said as he pulled in his Aspect to a bearable amount for the others.

“What? You heard the poor woman, so upset about how you’ve allowed yourself to be sullied.” Deception sneered again once he appeared to regain his confidence.

“I’ve ‘allowed’ no such thing, except those times when putrid filth like you has touched me,” Death insisted. “Now I’ve come here per your demand, so allow the woman to go away.” Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the black cat and assumed that it was the flaring of his power earlier which had blocked Charity’s arrival, so allowed his Aspect to pulse once more as if backing up his demand.

Deception shook his head as he frowned much like a child denied a toy. “No, I think not, her presence should make you so much more amiable.”

“How shocking, yet another lie from an _irrumator_ like you.” Death did some sneering of his own just then. “What if I swear not to run away today if you let her go?” He needed to buy some time for Charity to get Temperance and Betsy Dobson free, and had to trust in Andrew and the others.

“Oh, you’ll swear regardless, _Abram_.” Deception was much too pleased at the moment… but he could use that overconfidence in his favor, as the fact that he’d given his old name to Andrew.

“Fine, I swear not to run _today_ ,” Death said, and hoped that Deception either didn’t notice the time condition on that oath or counted on it soon not mattering. As for Death? He noticed the black cat slinking closer… and caught a darker shadow for a moment. He flared his Aspect once more as if furious. “The Fates don’t care for people who go back on their word.”

“But I’m _Deception_ ,” the bastard said in a mocking tone. “It’s expected of me.”

“You’re still bound by the Rules.”

“I don’t give a _damn_ about the Rules.” Deception laughed, the sound echoing about the room, as he pulled a charmed knife from the sheath at the small of his back. “Now let’s get started, shall we? I’ve waited long enough. Temperance!” He glared at the Virtue who was still soothing a near catatonic Betsy Dobson. “Leave the human alone and-“

Charity appeared next to Temperance and Betsy, a powerful charm bag hung around his neck which made even Death blink at its power, and wrapped his arms around the two before slipping back _between_ before Deception could react.

There was an intense sense of satisfaction at not only having Betsy Dobson and Temperance removed from Deception’s machinations, but the look of utter disbelief on the bastard’s face. For a moment, Death was able to forget that _he_ was still stuck with the _skamelar_ and enjoy the fact that Deception had been thwarted yet again.

For a moment. Then Deception started yelling.

“Temperance! Temperance - _Jean_ , _return_! Return to me now or I’ll carve out your liver!” It was clear that Deception was trying to use the bond between them to force the Virtue to return, but Charity must have found something to break or block the sigil. “Damn you, return now or it’ll take you a year to recover from what I do to you!” When nothing happened, Deception once again broke down into a mindless fury and took to stabbing the knife into thin air as broken sounds of rage spilled forth.

Death would have gladly slipped away right then, but he was still trapped by the new oath – trapped to stay for the rest of the day. He toyed with the key on the collar and made a slight shooing motion to the black cat to keep her from coming too close and drawing Deception’s wrath.

“It doesn’t seem to be working,” Death remarked after a short while, having grown bored of the bastard’s rantings and everything. “Perhaps you’re failing to do it right, much like your entire existence?”

Deception spun around to glare at him, his face twisted in anger “What did you do?”

“Me?” Death blinked twice at the question. “What makes you think I did anything?”

“Because Temperance knows better to always answer me,” Deception spat as he lashed out at Death; he attempted to dodge the strike, but to his surprise, he didn’t need to – the collar grew feverishly hot against his neck and there was a familiar warmth that grew around him to deflect the strike of the blade.

Deception’s dark eyes narrowed as he attempted to land another blow. “You _will_ bow down before me.”

“All I promised to do was to come here and to stay, you hedge-born prick,” Death pointed out as he forced himself to not react to the attempts to harm him, to the pathetic strikes against him from Deception that were thwarted because of Andrew’s collar. “I never said anything about bowing down to a cheap excuse of a Named One like you.”

Deception’s eyes flared at that jab. “You _will_ bow down, and you _will_ submit to me, dammit!” He glared at Death as he strove to drive the knife at Death’s chest. “You will fall to your knees, _Abram_.” Deception paused as if waiting for Death to react, for him to obey the command, and then snarled. “Obey me, damn you!”

Death merely smiled at that. “ _No_.”

For his defiance, Deception shoved a hand against his chest to push him against the nearest wall with enough force to make him cry out in pain, but as Deception attempted to drive the enchanted knife into his skin, something prevented it from touching him. No, not something – the collar that Andrew had given him was imbued with enough of a protective energy that Deception couldn’t breach it.

“You will stop this senseless defiance!”

“No,” Death repeated as he bared his teeth at the bastard. “Go fuck yourself.”

“I will flay the skin from-“

“What did I say about you touching him?” Andrew’s voice, so cold yet sharp, cut through Deception’s threat and made the bastard spin away the same time that a sense of exhilaration filled Death. He looked over to find Andrew and Tisiphone standing in the shadows, both of their eyes gleaming a bright red and their expressions fierce. Tisiphone’s wings formed behind her and spread out as they stepped forward, while pure rage and menace radiated from Andrew as he grabbed a piece of wood from the nearby wall. “Do you lack the ability to learn anything?”

“So the mongrel finally arrives.” Deception gave Tisiphone a wary look as he held out the knife. “And he brought a friend, how nice. I guess one unwanted bitch would take whatever company she could find.”

Tisiphone gave the bastard a smile, the expression all sharp teeth and malice. “As loathsome as always, Deception. No wonder you have to carve sigils in people to make them stay by your side.”

Meanwhile, Andrew’s bright red eyes sought out Death and roamed over him as if to make sure that he was all right. Death nodded with a slight smile as he still held on to the key. “Charity took your mother away,” he assured his friend, before Andrew could ask.

“But I’ll find her.” Deception stepped back near Death and reached for him, only to be blocked by the protective spell from the collar – from _Andrew’s_ collar. “Dammit, _Abram, remove the thing_!” he shouted.

“No,” Death repeated as he stared at his fellow Named One with all the hatred he felt. “You can’t use that name against me anymore.” He yearned to reach out with his power, to _end_ the bastard then and there… but he was bound by the Rules, especially since Deception hadn’t harmed him.

There was the pulse of more power, which must be Courage and Compassion arriving as well, which frayed Deception’s sense of control even more. He once more lunged at Death even as Andrew was in motion. “I will make you-“ He let out a loud cry, more like a shriek, as Andrew swung the piece of wood at the bastard’s outstretched arm; the wood broke upon impact… and Death didn’t think that was the only thing, judging from the way that Deception fell onto the ground, hunched over his twisted arm.

When Andrew went to bring the piece of wood still in his hands down on the bastard’s head, both Death and Tisiphone moved to stop him while the Virtues ran into the room. “No,” Death told his friend as he tugged on Andrew’s left arm. “There are Rules.”

“I don’t care,” Andrew said, his voice low and rough. “He _touched_ you. He took Bee.” His protective aspect was so strong, so warm that Death wanted to wrap his arms around his friend and relax, to let Andrew take care of everything… but he couldn’t. He couldn’t let Andrew pay the price.

“He’s not worth it,” Death said as he reached out to stroke his hand along Andrew’s stern, handsome face while Deception lay huddled at their feet. “Not worth _you_.”

“He’s right,” Tisiphone agreed. “If you continue with this, my sisters and I will most likely be ordered to deal with you,” she warned Andrew. “Let it go for today, I believe you’ve won this round.” Her wings rustled and sang as she circled around Deception.

As for the bastard, he managed to look up at them, his face strained with pain and eyes pure black. “The first thing I will make you do once I claim you is to have you kill all of these people,” he swore to Death. “Your uncle, the Virtues, the Fury, the god and the witches.” He bared his teeth at Andrew. “The mortal and then the mongrel for last.” Death had to hold Andrew back while Deception taunted them. “Soon you’ll wish you would have obeyed me all those years ago and been Despair.” Then he fled _between_.

“The fucking prick,” Andrew swore with heartfelt hatred as he threw the piece of wood aside while Courage and Compassion slowly approached with weapons in their hands, along with the two cats. “Why couldn’t I have killed him? He’s going to go after Bee, isn’t he? He’s just going to keep coming after her and you.” He turned to grasp Death by the back of the neck and give him a gentle shake. “So why not end it?”

“Because to kill him when he hadn’t done any true harm would have broken the Rules,” Death tried to explain. “Especially when you’re not a Named One yourself.”

“You’re skirting things enough as it is, with you hurting the prick like that,” Courage said as she toed aside the discarded piece of wood. “If it were someone one of us liked… well, objections could be made.” She glanced at Tisiphone for a moment. “But no one’s going to complain about Deception, short of his death. Then I’m sure Pride will say something, only because… well, he’s Pride.”

“Then he’ll raise the fact that someone has killed one of his blood and invoke the Furies,” Tisiphone murmured. “And the Rules will be judged and most likely you’d be found guilty of breaking them.”

Andrew’s face twisted with anger for a moment, his fingers so warm on Death’s nape. “Because I killed him for kidnapping my mother and Neil, and for trying to make Neil his slave?”

“For daring to interfere with a Named One when you are mortal,” Tisiphone explained. The Rules wouldn’t care about Betsy Dobson at all.

“What, so I can only scratch at the prick as I am now, but I can cause him real damage and keep him away from my family and Neil if I’m one of you?” Death went still at that question, while Tisiphone’s wings took to singing again and Compassion shook his head. “Then where do I sign up, hmm? How do I get an aspect?”

“No,” Death breathed out, even if he knew that Tisiphone had hoped for this to happen. Even if he had thought about it often himself. While he wanted more time with Andrew, wanted more than just a few decades together, he didn’t want his friend to rush into anything.

It seemed that Compassion agreed. “Look, Andrew, think about this. A lot changes once you become one of us.” He glanced at Courage and shook his head. “It’s not something you do on a whim,” he pleaded.

Andrew glared at the Virtue. “This isn’t a _whim_ , and what am I really giving up? Being a freak for the rest of my life?” He looked back at Death, the challenge fever-bright in his eyes. “Do you think I’m not good enough to be one of you?”

“That’s not it,” Death tried to explain as his hands hovered in front of Andrew’s chest. “It’s just… it’ll come with a cost.” Hadn’t he warned his friend that so much about them involved a cost?

“What doesn’t?” Andrew scoffed. “It’ll be worth it if it keeps Bee and Nicky safe, if the prick can’t keep trying for you.” He reached out to tug on the key for a moment. “I swore to look after you, and I meant it.”

“You don’t have to give up your humanity to do it,” Death argued as he caught at Andrew’s hand. “Not for me.”

Andrew twisted his hand about so he could entwine their fingers together. “Seems to me that there’s not much of it in the first place, not enough for me to give a damn about.” When Death couldn’t argue with _that_ , Andrew nodded. “So, what do I have to do?”

“It’s not all up to you,” Courage explained in a rush while Compassion frowned and shook his head once more. “There has to be an Aspect for you to take on, for someone to give up or pass on to you.” She slung the crossbow she’d be holding over her shoulder then ran her hand over her short black curls. “It might take a while until that happens, unless Destiny’s ready to pass on his right now.”

“And I’m not really getting ‘Destiny’ vibes from you, no offense,” Compassion mumbled as he sheathed his broadsword.

Tisiphone stepped forward with her wings held high behind her. “If I may?” She stared straight at Andrew with her eyes glowing bright. “I’m ready to pass on my Aspect.”

Hearing those words made something sharp flare inside of Death’s chest; he hadn’t thought that he considered Tisiphone so much as a ‘friend’, but he respected the Fury and what she did, considered her a kindred spirit and knew what was in store for her if she gave up her Aspect. Yet… yet he didn’t sense an ending for her just yet. “Are you sure?” he asked while Andrew frowned as he considered the offer.

“Yes, I’m certain.” For a moment Tisiphone’s shoulders slumped forward and her wings rang in discordance. “I am… I am tired,” she admitted. “I do my duty, but… the fervor for it is no longer there. It is time to pass it on to someone who knows the pain of those calling out for vengeance, for protection, for someone to make the pain and nightmares stop.” She looked at Andrew and cocked her head to the side. “I’ve been searching for a successor these last several years – have I found him?”

“But he’s a gu-ow!” Compassion rubbed his side while Courage glared up at him. “Okay, a male Fury, change is good.”

Andrew ignored the two Virtues while he held Tisiphone’s gaze for a few more seconds then nodded. “Yes, I’ll do it.”

A beautiful smile spread across Tisiphone’s face at that. “One moment, I’ll be back,” she told him before she slipped _between_ , which left the rest of them stunned. Death blinked in confusion while the grey cat meowed for attention before she jumped up into his arms.

“Yes, you did a wonderful job,” he assured her. “You too,” he told the black cat, who purred in appreciation as she rubbed against his shins. “Thank you both.” Then he regarded Andrew. “Are you certain? Once you formally accept, you can’t change your mind without finding another person to take over the Aspect.” They’d talked about Tisiphone enough that Andrew should know that being a Fury was not an easy thing.

“No one will harm a Fury’s family, will they?” Andrew asked instead, to which Death shook his head. “She’s right, it’s a good fit for me,” Andrew continued as he rubbed at the center of his chest. “Something… I can _feel_ it, when I think about others like me out there being hurt and wanting someone to save them, to make the monsters go away.” His eyes blazed a brilliant red for a moment. “Now those monsters will deal with _me_.”

Death had the impression that there would be an entirely new reason to fear Furies soon enough, but all he did was lean forward with obvious intent, until Andrew met him halfway for a kiss that dragged forth a low moan from him with its fierceness, with the way that Andrew’s fingers gripped his hair and lips pressed so hard against his own.

It wasn’t until the grey cat let out a plaintive meow that they broke apart, Death with the feel of warmth on his face and Andrew’s pale brows drawn in a scowl, while Compassion sniggered a short distance away. “My apologies,” Death told her, which she accepted with a slight purr before jumping to the ground.

“Why are they even here?” Andrew asked as he folded his arms over his chest and gave the two cats a narrow look.

“Ah, I needed their help with something.”

“What, chasing mice?”

“Not quite.” He was spared from explaining that he’d in effect taken on two assistants when Tisiphone returned – along with Aglaia and Thalia, which was a surprise.

“Okay, we’re ready now,” Aglaia said in a rush as she pulled along what appeared to be a despondent Thalia; in contrast to her sister Grace, with her golden hair and skin tone, the immaculate jeans and bright blue silk top, Thalia’s cropped red hair appeared dull, her skin tone ashen and yellow dress stained and wrinkled. Death couldn’t remember ever seeing the Grace appear so disheveled and less, well, filled with joy.

It wasn’t so much of a surprise, then, what he sensed when he looked at her for more than a moment.

Tisiphone came forward once more to Andrew, her smile uncertain as she held out her right hand. “Andrew Joseph Dobson, are you willing to become Vengeance?”

He only hesitated for a moment before he accepted her hand. “Yes.”

Death could still recall when he’d stopped being Abram and took on his Aspect despite all the years since then, but he’d never watched someone else assume one; Andrew drew in a sharp breath as his eyes once more blazed a pure and brilliant red, as bronze wings burst forth from his shoulder blades, as he tossed back his head with his lips pulled away from sharp teeth to let out a loud, manic cry which made the grey cat shiver and the black cat press against Death’s legs.

A new Fury was born – Tisiphone was reborn. Vengeance stood before them with bronze wings outstretched, so beautiful and powerful that Death could only smile.

While Tisiphone radiated power… now there stood a trembling young woman with matted white hair, her gaunt face covered with bruises. Aglaia had to rush over to help her remain on her feet since it looked as if her thin frame couldn’t support her any longer. “Oh Natalia….”

“It’s fine,” the young woman – Natalia – murmured as she rested against Aglaia for a moment. Having given up her Aspect, she was mortal once more, was as she’d been all those many years ago except that now her allotted mortal span was gone. She should only have mere minutes left before Death claimed her, yet somehow her ending wasn’t near.

Thalia stepped forward when Aglaia looked over her shoulder at her, her steps halting yet her head held high. “Natalia, do you accept being Thalia?” she asked, her voice faint but the words clear; behind them, Courage gasped while Compassion shook his head as if he wanted to say something yet kept his lips pressed together.

“Oh, Thal… are you sure?” Courage asked, her voice breaking with unshed tears.

“Yes,” the Grace said without looking away from Natalia. “I’ve lived long enough – lived too long, in fact. I’m tired of outliving those I love and am ready to move on.” She held out her hand to Natalia who, still bolstered by Aglaia, accepted it without any hesitation.

“I accept,” she agreed, and Death watched another Aspect be passed with Andrew – no, Tisiphone, he would have to get used to that – at his side. The old Thalia would have fallen to her knees if it wasn’t for Compassion catching her, while Natalia, now Thalia, stood straight and sure beside Aglaia, the bruises gone and her skin gleaming.

“Thank you,” she told the former Grace, who smiled a little before closing her eyes. Death went over to the young woman, who appeared so slight and tired without her Aspect.

“I’m ready,” she told him while Compassion held her cradled in his arms as if she was a breakable thing.

“I know.” He skimmed his fingers over her forehead and granted her a peaceful ending, one which showed in the smile which remained on her face long after her spirit was gone.

Aglaia held Thalia close to her as they kissed as tears streaming down her face for a few more seconds before they broke apart. “It’s done,” she murmured before she looked over at Death and Compassion, at the body Compassion held. “We’ll take her – together with Euphrosyne we’ll give her a proper burial.”

Death nodded at that as he hurried back to his friend’s side. “Are you… are you all right?”

Tisiphone cocked his head to the side as his wings flexed and sang their song of madness. “I… there’s so _much_ ,” he said, his voice rough and eyes still red. “So much more that I know now.”

“Each Aspect is a bit different, but it gives you what you need to know so you can be the new Tisiphone,” Death explained.

“Andrew,” Tisiphone insisted, the word coming out harsh and fast. “I’m still me, I’m still _Andrew_.” He reached out and grabbed onto the front of Death’s shirt and pulled him closer. “Maybe Tisiphone is what I am now, but I’m still _Andrew_.”

Death blinked at that and then smiled. “Okay, Andrew.” Somehow he shouldn’t be surprised that his friend wouldn’t quite follow the rules, would be so defiant and… and _him_. So _Andrew_.

Andrew kissed him then, just as passionate as before, and as Death slowly wrapped his arms around his friend’s shoulders – mindful of the wings, he was pulled _between_ by Andrew. When they stood on top of a large building overlooking New York City, he stepped away in surprise. “Ah, I see you figured out that ability.”

“It’s part of all the things in my head now.” Andrew’s wings flared behind him, their song a beautiful counterpoint to the setting sun, and one of them wrapped around Death and pulled him in closer. “Some of the things you talked about before are clear now, about the Rules and the price and the Furies. About what I’m supposed to do.” He gave Death a narrow look. “I understand better what _you_ are,” he said as he grabbed the key and tugged hard enough to make Death wince. “Yet you handed yourself over to Deception willingly? Are you that _stupid_?”

“He was going to harm your mother if I didn’t go,” Death explained as he batted at Andrew’s hand.

That made Andrew still. “You said Charity took her away. What happened?”

“I told Charity about Temperance, how Deception marked him with a sigil, and it seems that he has found something to negate the marking because he was able to remove your mother and Temperance from Deception’s presence and keep Deception from calling Temperance back.” Death loosely grasped Andrew’s right wrist and noticed that his friend still felt as warm as always, even through the thick material of the black arm bands.

“As long as she’s safe.” Andrew closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head before he opened them. “But you still faced the prick alone.”

“I had your protection spell,” Death reminded him. “I knew you could find me, and that Compassion and Courage wouldn’t be far behind.”

“An awful lot could have gone wrong before we showed up.” Andrew gave another tug on the key, which made Death curse beneath his breath. “You are such an idiot!”

“And you are a _runknisse_ \- what?” Death glared as the key was yanked yet again and a hint of a smile appeared on Andrew’s lips.

“I know what that means now,” Andrew informed him. “You might want to rethink what you say next.”

“Uhm….” Death stared at his friend as the realization that Andrew would indeed be able to understand all the different languages now sank in. “ _Merde_.”

“Appropriately enough.” Andrew tugged him forward as his eyes narrowed. “You have some making up to do when we get-“ His Aspect flared as he drew in a sharp breath. “Ahh… so that’s how it works.”

“Is something wrong?” Death shivered as Andrew’s wings sang out a song of vengeance and pain.

Andrew cocked his head to the side as if listening to something. “It’s… a call. Someone’s calling out to me. I have to go.”

“All right.” Death gave his wrist a gentle squeeze. “Do you want me to go with you?” He would be responsible for the soul afterwards, and he knew how taking on the duties of an Aspect could be overwhelming at first.

It was as if Andrew didn’t hear him, but then he pulled Death in close enough for a brief kiss and then they were slipping _between_ once again. Death smiled as his friend’s wings folded around him, content to be at Andrew’s side for a little longer.

*******

Vengeance stared down at the broken and bleeding body of the man who had dared to harm an innocent, to lay hands on a child, and sneered as he stepped away from the mess. Off to the side of the room was a young boy, his face bruised and light brown eyes wide with awe, and a young man with pale blue eyes who nodded at Vengeance as they passed each other.

“Is he… will he hurt me anymore?” the boy – Danill, asked as Vengeance crouched down in front of him, hope plain on his battered face.

“No, not anymore,” Vengeance promised. “He’ll never bother you. Now come on.” He held out a bloody hand which the boy accepted without hesitation and led him to another room in the small house, to a closet where he told Danill to pretend that he was playing a game and hide. Then Vengeance placed a memory spell on the boy along with a protection spell before he left the house, his wings singing of vengeance at last and death. He had just stepped outside to stare at the cloud-covered sky above when the young man joined him, a young man with stars for eyes.

Stars for eyes.

 _Neil_.

Andrew shuddered as memories flooded back all of a sudden, of Neil following him around the last… how many days had it been? Of Deception and Neil in the house under construction, of Tisiphone passing on to him her Aspect, of him becoming Vengeance. Of him answering the calls, of the children and women in need asking for him to end their pain, to be the face of their anger and suffering and hatred. Of Neil being beside him for all of it, a quiet presence who followed him around like a faithful shadow as the Aspect took over.

“Neil,” Andrew called out, and despite the blood on his hands, the idiot stepped closer so Andrew could touch him, could slide fingers tipped with claws into soft, tousled hair, could press his lips against Neil’s for a kiss that made him feel something other than rage and hatred and violence. The low, pleased moan from his boyfriend just then made Andrew shiver in pleasure, made his wings sing before he willed them away.

He allowed himself a moment to enjoy Neil before he pulled back. “I… how long?” he asked, terrified of the answer. How long had he been caught up in being a Fury? What about Bee? Bee and Nicky, dammit.

“Not long, only a few days,” Neil assured him. “It’s not uncommon for a new Named One to lose themselves in their new Aspect.”

Wrath had told him that Neil had lost himself in being Death for years, that Wrath had to chase him down and remind him that he’d been Abram. Andrew supposed that he should be grateful for ‘a few days’. “I need to go back home, to see Bee.” Then he grimaced as he took in the state of his hands and his clothes." After we stop somewhere for a shower or something."

"That's doable." Neil held out his right hand, which Andrew accepted, and a moment later they went _between_ (there wasn't any of the unpleasant sensation of him being pulled apart, he noticed, now that he wasn't partially human) and reappeared at what looked to be a large studio apartment of sorts without any windows and only a couple of open doors which led to a bathroom and two closets. It had a small bed and a few pieces of furniture, all of the pieces looking old but comfortable, a few bookshelves and various knickknacks, a fireplace and several pillows scattered on the rug-covered floor. There was no kitchen at all and two cats curled up on the bed - two familiar cats.

"I see you found the place," Neil told them as he let go of Andrew's hand.

/There's no mice,/ the grey cat said while Andrew stared at it in confusion, /but it's nice and quiet./

/But we can go anywhere for mice now, so that's good,/ the black cat was quick to add from its spot on the pillows at the top of the bed.

"They're talking," Andrew said as he rubbed at his forehead, mindful to retract his claws.

"They always talked, you just couldn't understand them," Neil reminded him.

"Where are we and why are they here?" He glanced around and noticed that there was a dark grey cloak draped over the small dark red velvet couch.

"Ah, it's as I told you one day, this is my home." Neil fidgeted with the hem of his grey t-shirt as he glanced around. "It's... well,  you should have your own, if you want one, but this is where I come when I want to get away from everything."

Andrew did remember Neil telling him about it, about how each of the Named Ones had their own space, how they could make it whatever they wanted. Somehow he wasn't surprised to find out that Neil just wanted something small and private, a place where he would feel safe and comfortable." And the cats? How did they get here?"

Neil's white teeth were biting into his full bottom lip at that point, which made Andrew want to do things, but he needed to see Bee at the moment so it would have to wait. "Well, I needed a way to reach out to Charity and Compassion and Courage, and didn't have much time. Some of us have... oh, think of them as assistants or messengers, if you like." He motioned to the cats who were staring at the two of them. "They're mine, now."

There was a hint of silver in the cats' eyes, a spark of Neil's power in their sleek, small bodies, which left Andrew with the impression that anyone who tried to mess with the cats were in for an unpleasant surprise. Also, the mice didn't stand a chance against those two furballs. "Huh. Okay, shower now." He tugged at his blood-splattered shirt. "And clothes."

"Go clean up and I'll be back with something for you," Neil told him, and smiled when Andrew allowed himself one brief kiss in thanks.

The bathroom was thankfully modern, with a huge shower with plenty of hot water and a large soaking tub set aside. Andrew stood beneath the hot water longer than necessary, just enjoying the feel of it washing him clean, and used some rich soap which smelled like cedar and mint before drying off with a thick, soft towel. He came out to be handed a bag from a London department store which had a new pair of boots, jeans, a package of underwear, socks and a long-sleeved shirt, and realized that Neil must have snuck in at some point to grab his dirty clothes to figure out what to buy. He arched an eyebrow at that and received a blush in return, and Neil fussed with the cats while pointedly not looking his way while Andrew dressed.

Once he was ready (he had to give it to Neil in getting the black clothes for him so quickly, and rather nice ones at that - though he suspected his idiot had probably appeared in the store and ordered some poor employee to pick the stuff out), he nodded to Neil to show that he was ready. Neil gave the cats one last pet and got off the bed. "Your mother is at home."

"Oh?" Andrew arched another eyebrow at that statement.

"Yes." Neil motioned to the black cat. "They've been watching over your family."

/The talkative witch leaves us scraps,/ the black cat said.

/Not enough meat,/ the grey cat complained.

"I'll be sure to pass that along." Andrew gave Neil's hand a squeeze. "Let's go."

"Andrew, I think I-" Neil was cut off as they went _between_ , and then he shook his head as they reappeared in the backyard of Andrew's house. "This... this might not go the way you're expecting it," he told Andrew, his expression pensive.

"What do you mean? Andrew's eyes narrowed when Neil shook his head again. "What is it?"

"You're one of us now, a Named One." He gave Andrew's hand a quick squeeze then pulled his free so he could tug the hood of his t-shirt over his head as if to hide himself. "And we... we're not meant to mix with mortals, not really."

"What does that mean?" While Andrew glared at his boyfriend, the patio door slid open so Nicky could step out, a wary look on his face which quickly turned into a smile.

"Andrew? Is that- Andrew!" He ran across the yard with his arms held open, and Andrew allowed the pest to give him a quick hug only because he was stunned to see Nicky crying - a Nicky with unkempt hair and stubble on his face and plain blue sweatpants and an overlarge white t-shirt that looked like it probably belonged to Erik. "Oh hell is it so good to see you! Where have you been? Is it true? That you're-"

Andrew shoved him away and shook his head. "I've just been gone a few days, there's no need for hysterics. What's going on with you?" He tugged at the front of the t-shirt. "And where's Bee? How is she?"

Nicky stared at him as if he was insane. "How is- you don't know?"

That didn't sound good at all; Andrew turned to look at Neil, who had pulled the hood over his face as much as he could. "You said she was fine, dammit!" Before Neil or Nicky could react, he was running for the inside of the house so he could see what was wrong with his mother, slamming the door open even wider in his haste and the tearing, awful fear clutching at his chest.

Even as he ran inside, he noticed the little things that had changed inside the kitchen, noticed that the mug with the fox and rude saying he always left out on the counter was missing, that the picture with him, Bee and Nicky was gone from the fridge. "Bee! Where the fuck are you?" he called out as he searched for her, and almost ran past the living room before he caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye.

She was the same as always, looked unharmed from whatever Shahin and Deception had done to her; she was seated in her favorite chair while reading some book with her glasses perched at the tip of her nose because she refused to get bifocals, wearing an old t-shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms with her hair pulled back in a messy bun. "I'm sorry, but are you a friend of Nicky's?" she asked as she set the book aside.

Andrew could only stare at her with something painful caught in his throat, with a lump of ice in his chest as he noticed the way she looked at him with open curiosity and no sense of recognition. As he realized that there weren't any pictures of him on the mantel above the gas fireplace, as the knickknacks he’d bought Bee over the years were gone from the display case - the silly crystal figurines and porcelain animals. Yet the Faberge egg remained.

"I'm... I'm Andrew," he managed to choke out as Neil and Nicky approached behind him.

"Hello Andrew," Bee greeted him. "Do you go to school with Nicky? Or do you work at the Laughing Fox, too?"

His hands clenched into fists with the urge to punch something, to grab a knife and start stabbing.

"It happens," Neil murmured to him as there was a rush of power, and judging from the way that Bee had gone still, he suspected that Neil had done something to time; Nicky gasped in surprise and looked around while Bee sat there with that slight, pleasant smile on her face. "There can't be both 'Andrew Dobson' and 'Tisiphone', so one of them has to go away," he tried to explain to Andrew with a sad smile. "All of the mortals who knew you... it's as if you never existed. It's... well, they often can't grasp what has changed, so it's better."

Andrew grabbed the front of the idiot's shirt. "How is this better?" he demanded to know. "How?"

"Because she doesn't know that you're gone, that you can't come back to this life," Neil said as he let Andrew shake him about even though he was more powerful. "Because not many can comprehend what you've become."

"She didn't even have the chance!" Andrew shouted as he let go of Neil before he did something he'd regret. "It was _my_ choice and now she's lost how many years because of it?"

Nicky shook his head as he stood off to the side with his arms wrapped around himself, as always made uncomfortable with the violence. "She just... I've been staying with her to help out. It's scary, how everything just got rewritten." He glanced at Andrew then looked away. "How in her mind she found me at the hospital and took me in on her own, how you were never there. But it's... you can tell there's something missing because she's not the same."

Something twisted in Andrew's chest when he heard those words. "She's lived with the both of us for how many years, she's known Abby and Wymack for how many years." He stared at Neil as he tried to find the words to say. "She may be mortal, but she's been more involved in our world than normal. Let me try to get through to her, okay?"

Neil bit into his bottom lip as he glanced at Bee sitting in her chair. "I don't-" Then he shook his head as he looked once more at Andrew's hands twisted in his shirt. "You can try, but I don't know if anything can be done."

"I'm not letting her be taken from me," Andrew declared as his fingers tightened even more in Neil's shirt before letting go. As he walked away, Neil's power flared once more, and time or whatever resumed.

“I’m… I’m someone you met a long time ago,” Andrew said, the words thick and heavy in his throat, on his tongue as he forced them out. “We met in the hospital one day.” A day he could remember so clearly even after all this time, like so many things; he remembered still being cold despite the blanket that the police officer had given him, despite the ride in the police car with the heat turned up. He remembered the pain, more a dull ache in his body, the sense of confusion, the sound of Cass sobbing in the other room as she’d been told about Drake, of being so tired and wanting everyone to stop touching him. Then Bee had shown up and walked him to a quiet room, to her office, and made him a cup of hot chocolate.

He craved a cup of hot chocolate _so much_ just then, but what he did was open the display case even as he heard Bee stand up and make a faint sound of protest. “Those are- be careful,” she chided him, while Nicky assured her that it was okay.

“Do you remember where you got this?” Andrew asked as he picked up the Faberge egg and turned around with it held in his hands. “Do you remember who gave it to you?” Why had it remained when everything else he’d given her had vanished? Because Aglaia had given it to him?

Bee’s brows drew together as she looked at the egg. “It’s a family heirloom – my grandmother’s or something.” Her expression wavered as she looked at the priceless object. “It’s….” Her breath hitched as she covered her mouth with her right hand. “Put it away, ple- ah, put it away. I can’t… it always makes me sad, to look at it.”

Andrew gave Neil, who was standing off to the side, a pointed look; she remembered _something_ , remembered enough to not say ‘please’ in front of him, to be bothered by the egg. “Bring them back,” he told his boyfriend. “Restore her memories, dammit!”

“Who are you talking to?” Bee asked as she dabbed at the tears in her eyes.

“I can’t,” Neil told him, his expression one of remorse. “It’s not within my power.”

“ _Neil_!” Andrew almost threw the damn egg at him before he caught himself in time. “I don’t care what it costs, _do it_.” He’d pay it.

Neil wrapped his arms around himself, for a moment looking so damn young and indecisive, while Nicky tried to placate a confused Bee. Then Neil shook himself as his eyes flared star-bright, as Bee drew in a sharp breath and cringed, as Nicky shivered and held her close.

“ _Destiny, come_ ,” Neil called out as his skin grew pale and his Aspect flared, as time stilled once more. “ _I have need of you, come_.”

“Oh _shit_ ,” Nicky muttered as he held on tight to a frozen Bee. “Abby’s lessons never covered stuff like this.”

“Consider this a crash course in Named Ones,” Andrew told his cousin as he put the egg back in the display case. “What are you doing?” he asked Neil.

“ _What you asked_ ,” Neil answered, his tone distant as his Aspect took over, as he was so cold that the air around him burned to the touch; Andrew had rarely seen him so… so _Death-like_ as at the moment. Yet before he could approach him, could pull him back before Nicky passed out in fear, the air shimmered and an older man dressed in plain clothes, a man with weathered dark skin and grey-shot, cropped dark hair stepped into the living room. He appeared weary, weighed down with exhaustion or some sort of internal troubles, his cloudy white eyes surrounded by dark circles and broad shoulders rounded, which made him seem smaller than his roughly five and a half feet tall.

“Death.” He gave Neil a respectful nod then seemed to eye Andrew with mild interest. “And the new Tisiphone. Yes, the two of you are tied together indeed.”

That was… okay, what was that? Andrew gave the man a cool look in return. “It’s _Andrew_ , and who the hell are you?”

“Destiny, as called.” He gave Andrew a slight smile as if amused.

“ _Thank you for coming_ ,” Death told him, still sounding too distant for Andrew’s liking.

The smile faded as the man turned from Andrew to face Neil. “ _You called, I came. What is you want_?” As he spoke, the man’s shoulders straightened, his spine grew stiff and some of his weariness faded away. The room seemed to grow smaller, seemed to lose some of its air as Destiny’s Aspect flared as well, as his eyes burned a phosphorous blue.

Nicky struggled to breathe, to remain standing on his feet as two of the most powerful Named Ones faced each other, which made Andrew swear and step closer to his cousin, to shield him with his own, weaker Aspect – to leave Neil to Destiny.

“ _The human woman, I want her memories back_ ,” Neil explained as he gestured to the frozen Bee, his face once more the skull cast in shadows from the intense light of his twin-star eyes and flickering fire hair. “ _For things to be restored as they were before Andrew took on his Aspect. You can do that_.”

Meanwhile, Destiny turned more and more into darkness, into the weight of shadows and years, of the eons and epochs that sunk into the earth and stretched out into space. “ _That is not how it is **done** , you **know** that_.”

Neil was quite for a moment, and then his bitter coldness, his light pulsed hard against Destiny’s Aspect, hard enough that even Andrew flinched and his wings burst forth while Nicky moaned in pain. “ _It’s not how it’s done, yes, but it’s not a **Rule**_.”

Things were quiet for a painful few seconds, until Destiny laughed. “ _You are right, young one. It’s not a Rule, but it won’t be done for free. **You** will owe me_.”

Neil bowed his head in acceptance. “ _Understood_.”

Andrew bared his fangs at that. “Wait, _I’m_ the one who-“ He choked as Destiny waved his hand in Andrew’s direction, his wings folding in front of him in an effort to deflect the blast of power that smashed into his chest like a hard punch.

“ _You will find me my successor_ ,” Destiny continued as if Andrew hadn’t interrupted. “ _And you will do it soon_.”

Neil cocked his head to the side as if considering something and then nodded. “ _I accept_.”

“Dammit, you idiot!” Andrew muttered, but both Neil and Destiny ignored him – Neil to just stand there while Destiny nodded as well then went over to Bee. All the Named One did was wave his hand in front of her face once, and then he disappeared.

With Destiny gone, Andrew could move again, the sense of overwhelming power having halved, and he wasted no time in reaching for a certain idiot to give him a rough shake. “Why did you do that? I was supposed to pay the price, damn you!”

Neil remained freezing to the touch, at least for the first second or two until Andrew’s Aspect ate through the cold, and then he shuddered as he returned to ‘normal’. “Because Destiny would never deal with you,” he murmured as he slumped forward a little, as if suddenly tired, his movements a bit jerky as well.

Andrew wrapped an arm around his waist to hold him steady while he slid his right hand through his idiot’s hair and gave the still warm strands a gentle tug. “ _We’ll_ find him his successor, okay? You’re not doing it alone.” Whatever the hell that entailed, he wouldn’t let Neil handle it alone, not when Neil had bartered with the old bastard for Andrew’s sake.

“Okay,” Neil breathed out against the side of Andrew’s neck.

Andrew let his boyfriend rest against him for a few seconds while Nicky took a cautious step toward them and smiled, the expression sappy. “All right, let’s see if he lived up to his end of the bargain,” he said as he gave another tug on Neil’s hair. “Do your thing again.”

“Wait a minute-“ Nicky started to say, but Neil sighed as he pulled away a little but not enough to shake off Andrew’s arm, and didn’t seem to hear the pest.

“Okay,” Neil repeated as he rubbed at his face, right as things returned to normal and Bee gasped again. For a moment her face went slack… and then her eyes refocused as she looked at Andrew.

 “An… Andrew?” The tears came back as she took a halting step toward him, and he suddenly realized that he still had his wings out – they felt so natural anymore, as much a part of him as his arms and legs, that he didn’t notice them. “What are… oh god.” She took a deep, gulping breath as she reached for him, her hand trembling. “What happened?”

‘What happened’, not ‘what the hell are you?’ – once again, Andrew felt a rush of affection and warmth for Bee as he shook his head. “Ah, I think I’m ready to talk to you now about all the stuff that’s been going on.”

She made a slight choking laugh and shook her head as the tears slid down her cheeks. “Oh hell, I think we’re going to need that wine now.” Her hands still trembled as she wiped the tears away and glanced around for Nicky, who was quick to come over to her side. “This… this has to do with Asim showing up literally out of thin air and dragging me off the same way, right?” She gave Neil a pointed look as she motioned toward the kitchen, where the wine was, and frowned. “Then Neil came and, and these two strange men brought me back home, and….” The frown deepened. “It’s all a confusing blur after that.”

“Let me get that wine,” Nicky said as he rushed over to where Bee kept the good stuff. “Ah, I think you’re gonna want to sit down for this.”

“That’s always such a great way to start a conversation,” Bee said with a weary sigh, yet she did sit down at the kitchen table. After willing his wings away, Andrew did the same, and made sure to have Neil sit next to him.

Nicky was quick to pour all four of them glasses of wine, going through an entire bottle, and after bringing over the glasses, opened another bottle and set it on the table. He gave Neil a little bit of a nervous smile as he sat down, but he sat in the chair next to the idiot without any hesitation, so Andrew gave his cousin an approving nod which made Nicky’s smile widen.

“Okay, so I guess I’d better start back around the time that we met,” he told Bee as he settled in for a long story.

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeehhhh... So? Yes, no? Did you see that coming? I tried to not make things just come out of left field on that one, to make Andrew's Aspect fit and everything. Honest. (i tried my best)
> 
> And Natalie/Renee. Yes, yes, that was in the works since the beginning, too. Little clues on that one. 
> 
> Riko.... there's probably some people unhappy about that, but again, this is part one of two. More will come. 
> 
> Ah! And I wanted to comment - the cats! (I'm on the fence w/ giving them names, I just can't see Death naming them, to be honest, as it's such a 'human' thing). It's a 'Sandman' thing, to have animal 'assistants'/companions. Barnabas and Matthew.
> 
> All right more will come this weekend. After that, should be some Dragon!Andrew (I started it, but then really wanted to finish this up) and Heartlines. But I don't have a set posting schedule because things will be busy until mid May with a week in there when I honestly don't think I'll have much time for writing (moving et all).
> 
> As always, the comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!  
> *******


	18. Death Finds a Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right! So, here it is, the final chapter! I don't think it's really an epilogue when it's so long. I hope you enjoy it, I think this is a decent 'wrap up' to the Andrew part of the story (though obviously he'll play a big part in the next story, along with Neil/Death).
> 
> I want to thank everyone who gave this story a chance, I know the premise was/is a bit out there and different for the TFC fandom, especially with merging it with the Sandman fandom/story. Thank you so much for all the wonderful comments and kudos and feedback, it's so greatly appreciated! You really do help make me keep writing these long, plotty fics and posting them on a (mostly) regular basis.  
> *******

*******

*******

All in all, Death was rather surprised at how well Betsy Dobson reacted to finding out the truth about Andrew and Nicky, about there being gods and Named Ones – about _him_. It probably helped that she had raised a demi-god for several years and a witch still lived under her roof, that a witch and a god were among her best friends. Andrew was right in that while she was mortal, she had ‘dabbled’ a bit in the immortal world for a while, that she’d been exposed to it and that exposure seemed to give her some immunity. At the least it allowed her to accept what Andrew told her that evening – that and the love she held for her adopted son.

Death imagined that were it several centuries ago, she would have made an impressive high priestess in some temple, would have bore the weight of some fortunate god or goddess’ divinity while keeping said being in check to ensure that her people were tended to in a proper fashion. She certainly handled her sons with an enviable ease.

Because of Andrew’s new status as a Fury and Nicky’s growing powers as a witch, she should be safe from Deception and Isis – _should_. It was beyond foolishness to cross a Fury, especially one as powerful as Andrew, but it was clear that Andrew had been rattled by what had happened to Betsy (both her kidnapping and the memory loss) and didn’t wish to leave her unattended for too long, so when they left the small house that night, Death didn’t take them too far away. They stepped out on top of the library where they’d looked up books the one day, the downtown area quiet beneath them. “You want to stay here.”

Andrew stirred beside him as he went over to the edge of the building. “You know, I used to be afraid of heights,” he said, for the moment choosing not to answer the statement. “There’s… I think there’s a tiny bit of it, buried deep, but it’s this slight concern, not this invigorating fear anymore.”

Death smiled at that as he went over to his friend’s side. “I suppose you can’t be much of a Fury if you’re afraid to fly.” That was all he said, content just then to be with Andrew and so left the conversation topic to him.

It was quiet for a minute or two, until Andrew sighed and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of a pocket of his jeans. “Yes, I want to stay. Nicky means well, but he’s too easily distracted, especially with Erik and the whole magic thing. I know I can’t ignore what I am, but when I’m not tearing apart some bastard for daring to hurt someone, it doesn’t mean I can’t be here watching over Bee and the pest, right?” He glanced aside at Death while he lit the cigarette with a flick of his fingers. “Tisiphone – well, Natalie seemed to manage to have enough spare time, and there’s Dan and Matt. It seems possible to have some sort of life while being a Named One.”

“So it seems,” Death agreed. “As long as you heed the calls.” He tugged at the key on his collar and gave Andrew a weak smile. “I can give you a number for one of Hestia’s acolytes. She should be able to find you a place to live, if you don’t want to stay with your mother anymore.” It might be best if Andrew lived on his own, considering what he was. “As the new Tisiphone, you inherit everything of hers, not just the name.” Somehow he didn’t think the new Thalia would mind, since she had her own new inheritance… and a very wealthy lover; it was nice to believe that Named Ones were beyond such things as material possessions, but they often had to deal with the mortal world, and mortals were _very_ materialistic.

Though Death had to admit, gold and debit cards were much easier to manage than cattle, bags of rice and mollusk shells.

Andrew was quiet as he smoked, his eyes as bright as the tip of the cigarette, and then he huffed as he flicked the filter aside. “I suppose you’ll be moving on then, right? Be getting back to the old job now that Deception went running away with his tail between his legs?” There was a sharp edge to Andrew’s words just then, a hint of the violence that he could unleash at any moment as part of his Aspect – though _why_ , Death didn’t understand.

“I… well, it would probably be safer if I did go,” he admitted. “Deception was only here because of me. And there’s Destiny’s task now, too.” He had a little time to complete it, but complete it he must.

“What did I say about _us_ doing it, you idiot?” Andrew spat as he grabbed hold of Death’s left arm and yanked him forward. “Are you so desperate to run away from _me_?”

That was… it was such a ridiculous statement that all Death could do was stare at Andrew for a couple of seconds before shaking his head hard enough to make the hood slide down to his shoulders. “You have your family, and all I’ve done is brought trouble upon you.” He’d led Deception to Andrew, had caused Betsy Dobson to nearly be harmed, for Andrew’s life to be irrevocably changed. “I should go before anything worse happens.” Such as his _father_ coming after him.

Yet before he could slip _between_ , Andrew jerked him closer. “All I’m hearing are excuses, dammit. Do you want to go or do you want to stay?”

Death nearly reached out and touched Andrew’s chest before he caught himself and shook his head once more, his fingers curled into a fist. “I can’t, it’s not-“

“That’s not an answer!” Andrew’s eyes blazed like twin infernos as he grabbed onto Death’s other arm. “Did or didn’t I promise to protect you? Did you forget that when you were stupid enough to go face Deception by yourself?”

His temper stung because of that remark, Death attempted to pull his arms free and glared at the churl. “I went because of your mother! Your mother, who might be at risk again if I remain here!”

Some of Andrew’s temper seemed to cool as he pulled Death in even closer, enough that he could feel puffs of air against his face each time Andrew spoke. “I’ll keep her safe, the same as you, I promise.” He let out a slow breath as his hands shifted on Death’s forearms. “If you truly want to leave, I won’t stop you, but don’t you dare go because you’re being some damn sort of martyr. I won’t let anyone harm you.” His Aspect flared again, so warm and fierce that Death found himself shivering in pleasure.

“I… my father,” Death tried to explain. “What if Deception goes to him?” What if next time, they both tried to bend him to their will?

Andrew’s wings came out and unfurled forward to wrap around them both as if a physical barrier to the world. “Do you want to go away, yes or no?”

Death shuddered as the music of madness and violence filled the air. “Ah… no,” he conceded as he gave in, and allowed Andrew to pull him in the slight distance still separating them, to let his hands rest against the firm, warm chest before him. “But-“

He was kissed silent before he could argue anymore, Andrew’s hands shifted up into his hair and mouth fervent on his own. They stood beneath the night-dark sky as Andrew drove all of Death’s doubts away, until all he could think about was the pleasure and need and security and sense of home he’d found with this _one_ person out of so many, until he shivered with the intensity of emotions inside of him and had to pull away enough to rest his head on Andrew’s left shoulder.

“So you’re staying.” Andrew’s fingers were steady and warm as they combed through Death’s hair.

“Hmm, yes,” he agreed.

“With Matt and Dan?”

Death frowned as he considered that. “Hmm, I don’t-“ He chewed on his bottom lip as he debated a long-term arrangement with the two Virtues – with _Compassion_. “I don’t think I can put up with much more of Compassion’s cooking or Courage’s fussing, to be honest.” He knew that they meant well, but _no._

“So what, get your own place?” Andrew rested his right hand on the back of Death’s neck while his left toyed with the key on the collar. “Or,” he continued before Death could speak, “we could always just find a place together. Would be easier.” He sounded calm as he proposed it, but there were sparks in his eyes and the feathers on his wings rustled as he spoke.

Things were quiet except for the soft singing of the wings, and then Death huffed. “Are you still insisting that I need to be looked after?”

Andrew gave the key a hard yank. “You handed yourself over to Deception, of _course_ you need to be babysat day and night.”

“Officious bastard,” Death grumbled as he batted at his friend’s hand.

“But one who’s right,” Andrew declared with an overbearing smugness. “Now how do we go about getting this place?

“First we should let Courage and Compassion know that we’re all right, I suppose.” After Andrew’s slight nod, he pulled them both _between_ , to the apartment.

It wasn’t a surprise to find the two Virtues awake and sitting in the living room, but it was startling to see Charity and Temperance there as well. Courage jumped up and ran over to give Death a tight hug, which was mildly unpleasant, while Compassion complimented Andrew on his wings, which the new Fury quickly willed away considering the cramped nature of the room.

“So everything’s okay now? You’re adjusting to things all right?” Compassion asked Andrew as he patted him on the shoulder.

Andrew gave a slight shrug as he stepped away from the Virtue. “It’s… a lot to take in, but I’m doing fine.” He glanced at Death for some reason before looking back at Compassion. “It’s not bad.”

“We let Janus know what was going on,” Compassion said as Courage came over to stand beside him; he draped an arm over her shoulder and rubbed her forearm, left bare by the dark red sari she was wearing. Death noticed that his friend was wearing a pale gold chiton and wondered what the two of them had been up to while he was gone. “I sorta figured that the two of you wouldn’t be going back there to work.”

“No,” Death admitted; he believed his current ‘experiment’ with humanity was over with for the time being, and that Janus would be grateful to not have his customers and employees threatened by Deception anymore. “You’re correct.”

Compassion appeared upset about that, while Courage nodded. “So you’re going now?”

“Actually, we’re sticking around, just not here,” Andrew explained, which made the two Virtues and even Charity appear shocked by the statement. “So there’s a free bedroom, maybe for one of those two guys over there.” He walked around Compassion and Courage to eye up Temperance, who sat huddled in on himself on the loveseat, while Charity was quick to jump in front of him as if to act as a shield. “Hey, Frenchie, what’s going on with the prick?”

“I don’t know,” Temperance murmured while Charity glared at Andrew.

“He doesn’t, he hasn’t seen him since you gained your Aspect,” Charity declared. “Now leave him alone!”

“Or?” Andrew’s eyes burned as bright as funeral pyres as he bared his fangs at the Virtue.

“Andrew, if you don’t mind.” Death came over to stand beside his friend while he studied Temperance – or to be more exact, the very powerful charm bag on the Virtue’s chest, right above where the sigil had probably been carved. “What did you do?” he asked Charity as Andrew scoffed and grasped Death by the nape of his neck to pull him back slightly, his Aspect flaring in an obvious warning sign.

Charity flinched at that but didn’t move away from Temperance. “I went to Thessaly for help.” Death’s left eyebrow rose at mention of the powerful, ancient witch.

“That must have cost you.” Andrew’s fingers on his nape twitched, probably because he didn’t recognize the name.

Charity shrugged in a nonchalant manner while Temperance appeared somewhat pained behind him. “I’ll owe her a favor, but it’s worth it.” Compassion muttered something in Gaelic, but Death had the impression that Charity had spoken the truth, that he didn’t regret owing the powerful witch such an open-ended thing – not when he could smile like that, with so much joy.

“He is a terrible, humungous imbecile,” Temperance spat even as his right hand clutched at the lacings of the charm bag.

“Yes,” Death agreed while Charity laughed. “But he saved you none the less.”

“Yes,” Temperance echoed as he glanced at his fellow Virtue for a brief moment then was quick to look aside.

“Anyway, we figured he’s safe behind these wards for a while,” Courage explained. “If you’re not going to stay here, maybe he can?”

Death shrugged to show that he didn’t care; he would have to stop by from time to time to reinforce the wards, which he didn’t mind since no one deserved to be a pawn of Deception.

“You’ll have to let us know where you end up staying, we’ll bring food and drinks over to have one of those housebreaking parties!” Compassion appeared much too excited about the idea.

“House _warming_ , and it better be take-out,” Andrew warned. “All right, enough stupid talking, let’s go,” he told Death as he tugged on the hair falling onto Death’s nape.

“Yes, yes,” Death sighed as he waved goodbye to his friends and let Andrew choose their next destination; all that mattered to him in the end was that he went along with Andrew.

*******

They ended up getting a loft apartment in an old converted warehouse in Chinatown, the top floor of a four story building (Neil had sighed at that, and upon thinking on it, Andrew had snorted in some amusement). It was spacious as hell and had a fire escape leading down to a narrow alley and up to the roof, a modern kitchen which Neil ignored except for the fancy cappuccino maker he had delivered one day and Andrew made sure that it was stocked with plenty of alcohol and sweets, and an extravagant bathroom. Oh, and a hell of a lot of cats.

The black and the grey were the undisputed queens of the castle, so to speak, but there was a steady stream of ‘visitors’ who came for a safe place to rest and a free meal, and Andrew grew used to it soon enough. Well, he tolerated it, since cats and idiots seemed to go hand in hand. The furballs were mostly polite and other than cat hair everywhere, didn’t leave too much of a mess, and he had to admit that he enjoyed their biting sense of humor. At the least, they were more realistic than dogs and their annoying eternal optimism.

It surprised him, how easy it was to settle with Neil, to adjust to living with another person who wasn’t a family member (or a ‘fake’ family member, like back in the foster homes). There was the upper part of the loft with the huge bed which had come with the furnished apartment, but much like eating, they didn’t need to sleep, either, so they often spent the ‘nights’ traveling the world for ‘work’, days hanging out together and evenings checking in on Bee and Nicky and Dan and Matt.

That was, when Andrew didn’t receive a call, the strong pull to step in and save some poor victim or offer bloody vengeance to a soul pushed too far. Sometimes he used his claws, sometimes the knives still strapped to his forearms, but he always made the perpetrators bleed, made them beg and cry and plead with him to stop, to make the pain end.

He never did, not until they were broken, bloody things. Not until he’d returned the pain and terror at least tenfold. Not when he knew how the huddled forms watching on with fever-bright eyes and expressions of awe and worship had felt, having been driven to the point where they had to pray to some nebulous creature to end their suffering because no one else would hear them, would believe them, would stop the pain and abuse.

But _he_ would, and _he_ did.

He didn’t know what had driven Natalie to give up this Aspect, but he couldn’t foresee ever doing it, not when it felt so _right_ , when he was doing something _good_. Not when Neil stood by the huddled figures watching him the entire time to step in at the end to brusquely wave the broken soul away, and once Andrew had erased the memory of his supplicant would then gently grasp Andrew’s often bloodstained face between his cool hands and kiss Andrew on the lips.

Perhaps that was what Natalie had needed, was someone to stand by her when she meted out vengeance and justice. Allison clearly loved her, but Splendor wasn’t Death, nor did she bear the scars that Neil did beneath his loose, long-sleeved t-shirts. She had loved her Tisiphone, but she had never needed one.

They had their home and their ‘work’, their friends and their family. They had the time when it was just them, the privacy to explore the… whatever was between them. Destiny had said that they were ‘tied’ together. Neil had willingly taken on a debt for Andrew’s sake, had went to face Deception alone because of him and had agreed to stay. Andrew had promised to protect the idiot, to face not only Deception but Destruction.

Promises had always been so important to Andrew after all those years when no one had believed him, when all those adults had let him down, and they were even _more_ important now. He was Vengeance, was a Fury, and not only did he provide succor to those in need, to those who had been hurt and betrayed, to those who couldn’t gain needed retribution on their own, but he was Judgment, too. He balanced the scales at times, he was the executioner for oath-breakers and kin-killers.

(Some days he wondered how he could have been fated for anything _but_ a Fury.)

Neil? Neil could lie so well by omission, as evidenced by how he got along without people figuring out that he was Death, that he was this ageless being instead of a teenager (they thought he was weird as fuck, that he had issues, yes, but not that he was a Named One and the embodiment of Death). But Andrew didn’t sense any falsehoods from him when they were together, when it was just the two of them. When he asked his idiot ‘yes or no’.

They’d moved on from just making out on couches (and the bed, and a multitude of rooftops) to one of Andrew’s favorite pastimes of pinning Neil up against the wall with his wings fanned out around them, cocooning them in their own little world. Their shirts had long since disappeared and Neil’s pants had been pushed down to his knees as Andrew’s hands stroked along his lean hips and thighs, as his mouth nipped above the ever-present collar while Neil whined in eagerness and impatience.

“Andrew,” the idiot moaned as his fingers tightened in Andrew’s hair the slightest bit, Neil’s voice already hoarse with need. “Don’t be… don’t be a-“

Andrew kissed his lover quiet before he was insulted yet again, and was amused at Neil’s moan when his hands tightened on sharp hipbones. “Be good or you won’t get what you want,” he chided as he gave a warning squeeze.

“You… dammit.” Neil’s teeth sank into his bottom lip as his head tilted back against the wall, his eyes a shining silver color through the thick lashes. Andrew enjoyed the sight for a moment, of that gorgeous face, of the lean body no less attractive with all of its scars, then bent forward to leave one more mark on his idiot’s neck before kissing his way down. Neil shuddered when he got to the unfinished sigil on the center of his chest, the marks slowly fading away as the spell was left incomplete, only to gasp when Andrew gave a slight nip below his sternum.

It was so amazing to see him come undone beneath Andrew’s hands and mouth, to watch that beautiful face become flushed, to see those muscles flex and uncoil. To hear Neil plead and curse at him in all those different languages, to have hands reach for him but never cross any lines which he clearly defined.

He sank to his knees and placed a kiss on an old scar above Neil’s left hip as his wings arched up, still caging the two of them in, and Neil took to chanting his name. His left hand palmed cool skin while the fingers of his right trailed along Neil’s hard cock light enough to provoke a desperate whine and an aborted jerk, just before they wrapped around its base and he gave the smooth tip a teasing lick.

His wings sang of possession and desire and need while Neil choked on Andrew’s name, as Neil’s fingertips skittered over Andrew’s scalp, and a part of Andrew thrilled at having someone so impossible, so improbable and out of his reach breaking apart because of him. He allowed himself a moment to marvel at it, to savor it, before he set about tearing _his_ idiot apart in the best possible away, parting his lips to take Neil’s cock in deep-

And then there was someone pounding on their front door.

“Drop the fucking ward, Kiddo!”

There was a furious _Wrath_ pounding on their front door.

He wasn’t the only furious Named One just then. Andrew’s wings rustled a discordant tune of bloodlust and madness as he rocked back onto his heels and Neil took to cursing in several different languages, his right arm thrown over his eyes and entire body trembling in frustration.

“Dammit, Kiddo!”

“ _Fuck_.” Neil lowered his arm and glared, his eyes pure pools of gleaming silver as he willed an overlarge, dark grey hooded sweatshirt to appear on his upper body and reached down to tug up his pants; while he did that, Andrew grabbed his discarded black t-shirt and pulled it on after he willed his wings away.

“Let’s go see what the asshole wants,” Andrew said as he stood up, more than a little willing to exact some ‘vengeance’ for his interrupted sex life if Wrath proved to be annoying. Well, if he proved to be more annoying.

“I suppose.” Neil rubbed at his face for a moment before he sighed and pushed away from the wall. As he headed for the door, the two cats came trotting over from wherever they’d been curled up sleeping.

/He’s very loud,/ the grey one complained.

“Yes, let’s hope he doesn’t do the eye and lip thing as well,” Neil said as he approached the door.  As soon as he came near it he the ward altered enough to let Wrath in, though Andrew nudged him aside to be the one to throw the overlarge door open and glare at the asshole.

“ _Now_ you show up?” The asshole had been gone for how long, and he had to show up now? _That_ moment?

“Pardon the fuck out of me,” Wrath told him as he pushed his way into the loft; he was dressed in an expensive suit and radiated pure disgruntlement as if it was some sort of cheap cologne. “I thought that- what the _hell_?” His grey eyes went wide as he stared at Neil - to be more exact, at Neil’s neck. At the collar and the numerous hickeys that ringed it. “For fuck’s sake, _really_?” He scrubbed at his face while Andrew slammed the door closed behind him. “You let the little shit _mark_ you?”

Neil frowned as he tugged on the key of the collar. “Did you come here just to interrupt us having-“

“Why are you even here?” Andrew asked as he shoved his idiot toward the kitchen. “It was rather nice with you gone.”

“I’m here because I’ve been hearing a bunch of shit about you, Kiddo.” Wrath took to leaning against the counter while Andrew poured himself a tumbler of whiskey, and made a loud sound of clearing his throat until Andrew poured a second glass as well just to get him to shut the hell up. “Stuff like the little shit over there’s the new Vengeance and you two are shacking up.”

By way of answer, Andrew bared his fangs as his Aspect flared.

Wrath’s expression turned distinctly sour before he tossed back the whiskey. “Wonderful, for once the gossip’s spot on.” He set the empty glass aside on the counter as he met Andrew’s eyes with his balefire own. “So _this_ is what you waited how many centuries for? Seriously?”

 Neil sighed again as he bent down to pick up the black cat. “I believe this is worse than the whole squinty eye and lip thing.”

“Huh?” Wrath’s eyes narrowed as he gazed at his idiot nephew. “What’s that?”

Andrew finished his own whiskey and poured himself some more. “Why are you here, other than to be an asshole?”

That earned him another glare as Wrath came over to help himself to the bottle of alcohol. “There’s the fact that I heard about my nephew playing house with an uppity demi-god who managed to become a Fury, one who had to go and put a fucking _collar_ on him, of all things!”

“It has a protection spell on it,” Neil murmured, even as the black cat said she agreed that the collar was a bit much.

Wrath scoffed at the comment. “Yeah, that’s the impression I’m getting from it right now, Kiddo.” He paused to drink the whiskey while Andrew wondered if he could get away with killing a Named One because of sheer annoyance.

“It worked to keep Destruction from touching him, which is all that matters,” Andrew told the asshole. “Which you’d know if you’d been around. Not that we want you around.”

“Sorry, I had my hands full with the other prick,” Wrath said, and right away Neil went still. Andrew set aside the empty glass so he could go over to his lover, and as soon as he touched Neil on the nape of the neck, Neil managed a wan smile as the black cat leapt to the floor.

“My father.” Neil’s voice was quiet, but it still conveyed the deep hatred he felt for Destruction.

“Yeah, the fucking prick.” Wrath’s Aspect raged forth for a moment until he sighed and shook his head. “Was keeping a watch over him and those sadistic hellions of his, figured you had enough on your hands with Deception and everything. Then things got weird a couple months back.” He gave Andrew a pointed look as he poured more whiskey. “Had that bitch of a witch running all over the place, her and her brother, and the golem – right up until a few days ago and then they all disappeared.”

That didn’t sound good. “Do you know where they went?” Andrew asked as his fingers tangled in Neil’s hair.

“No, though I looked all over.” Wrath paused for a sip of whiskey. “I think they retreated to the prick’s sanctuary, so I gave up to come here and warn you.” That was directed at Neil. “Be careful, all right? It’s been a while since more than one Aspect’s been passed on at the same time. People are anxious when there’s change like that.” There was a bitter twist to the older man’s mouth just then – it took Andrew a moment to realize that one of those ‘times’ when multiple Aspects had passed on must have involved Neil – then Abram – his mother and Wrath. Well, Temperance, back then.

“I will,” Neil promised, then summoned a sliver of a smile for his uncle.

“I’ll make sure he will,” Andrew added, since he was well aware of just how pathetic Neil’s ‘promises’ were when it came to things like that. Pretty much along the line of his definition of the word ‘fine’ – absolute shit, in other words.

Wrath eyed him for a few seconds before grunting in what sounded to be approval. “Make sure you do,” he told Andrew. “Because the prick is a thousand times worse than Deception.”

Andrew glared at him when Neil shivered at the remark. “Really? I had no clue. Are you going to stand around here and drink all night or what?”

“I need something in me to put up with the sight of _that_.” Wrath gestured to Neil’s neck with the hand holding his glass of whiskey. “Really, Kiddo?”

Neil’s back stiffened as he tugged on the key dangling from the front of the black collar. “I see nothing wrong with it, or Andrew, if that’s what you’re implying.”

Either it was the cold tone to his voice or the silver in his eyes, but Wrath seemed to figure out that he’d crossed a line because he set the glass aside. “I’m just looking out for you,” he said as he risked reaching out to tousle Neil’s hair. “But as long as you’re happy, I’m happy.” He didn’t look it, but Neil relaxed and his eyes returned to their usual icy blue. “I’m gonna get going, maybe see if a few friends have any clue what the prick is up to, stuff like that.”

“Give us a warning before you show up next time,” Andrew told the asshole before he could literally vanish into thin air.

“Yes, it’s rather unpleasant, having you interrupt our sex like that,” the unfiltered idiot just had to say, though Andrew must admit, the look of at first horror and then loathing (directed _his_ way, of course) on Wrath’s face which followed was amusing as hell.

“I… that’s… _goodbye_ ,” Wrath declared in a crackling voice before he fled.

Neil looked over at a huffing Andrew and frowned. “What? What did I do this time?”

It wasn’t worth explaining, not when better people (to use the term loosely) than Andrew had tried. Instead, he reached for the key and tugged his idiot out of the kitchen. “Come on, I believe we were in the middle of something before we were rudely interrupted.”

Neil allowed himself to be pulled along with an eager smile on his face.

*******

Death was sitting on the roof with the two cats when Andrew appeared while wearing a solemn expression. "I received a call." For some reason his madness and thirst for vengeance appeared oddly banked just then, the rage muted.

"All right." Death set the grey cat aside and gave the black one more stroke before he stood up. "Shall we go?" he asked as he held out his right hand.

Andrew continued to hesitate for a moment longer before he nodded. "Yes."

They stepped out from _between_ into an apartment somewhere around the East Coast - in the south, Death realized, South Carolina, to be exact. He'd been there last a couple of weeks ago to collect a pleasant woman who had lived for almost a hundred years and had smiled to see him, grateful for her deserved rest. He enjoyed endings like hers, had savored the memories of a life filled with both hardship and sweetness.

What was before him looked like a life composed of mainly the first, judging from the dinginess of the abode and the petite blonde woman with haggard features beating a young man who... who resembled Andrew. The same shade of blond hair, the same hazel eyes, the same short stature though his shoulders and upper body possessed only some of the impressive breadth of Death's lover's.

Nicky had said that Andrew had a twin - Aaron - and a mother who lived in Columbia, South Carolina. If Death searched for it, he could find a divine spark buried deep in the young man, a tiny flame compared to the raging fire that had burned inside of Andrew. He stood beside Andrew as his lover watched the woman who had given him up all those years ago scream obscenities at Aaron and land another blow on his back while the young man merely cowered before her, then Andrew gave a slight squeeze to his hand and let it go.

His wings flashed into existence with the beautiful, heartbreaking melody that made Death hum along while his eyes became incandescent and fangs exposed, Andrew stepped forward, now visible to the mortals. The woman - Tilda - Death recalled - paused with her right arm held in the air and gasped, while Aaron could only remain crouched over and gawk at his twin. "What are... you can't... you're not real," she insisted as she clutched at the cross hung around her neck as if it would protect her. “Who are you?”

"Never thought to see me again, did you?" Andrew's voice was too amused just then, was filled with the glee of madness which stretched his full lips wide over those sharp fangs as he held up his clawed hands. "Oh, I'm so very, very real, _Mother_. Let me show you how real."

Death slipped forward to stand beside Aaron as the first strike landed, as the young man shook his head in disbelief. "This can't... it can't be happening," he ground out as Tilda's cries for help quickly turned into ones of pain. "How - this has to be a nightmare, it can't be real."

"It is," Death insisted as he leaned against the wall with his arms folded over his chest; Aaron had enough of Apollo's blood in him to know the truth, to recognize his brother despite the Fury’s Aspect and the Fates’ intervention.

"But-" Aaron looked at him with Andrew's eyes, which annoyed Death greatly for some reason, especially when they were surrounded by bruises. "How is this happening? Stop him!"

" _No_ ," Death said with a hint of his power, which made Aaron flinch. "And it's happening because you called him, you wanted someone to make your mother pay for what she was doing to you." Why wasn't he surprised that the one person who didn't appreciate what Andrew did was his own brother?

"But I-"

"Yes, you _did_." Death held the young man's gaze for a couple of seconds before dismissing him. That allowed them both to focus on what Andrew was doing to Tilda, which made Aaron gag and throw up and Death to once more hum along to the wings. It wouldn't be much longer now, not when Andrew was in such a rare mood.

Once his lover was done, Death went over to the remains of the woman, where Tilda's spirit hovered in blatant confusion. "I don't... how could such a monster do this to me?" she asked in weary confusion, her arms wrapped around her thin frame as she gazed around her.

Nicky had understated how unpleasant his family was, if anything, Death decided. " _Go away_ ," he ordered her as he waved her aside, unwilling to allow her to exist a moment longer. Behind him, Andrew stood beside a shuddering and still heaving Aaron, so he returned to his lover's side once finished with the woman's ending.

He gave a slight smile as a wing was draped over his left shoulder and ran a light hand along Andrew's blood-splattered hair. Andrew turned toward him, the manic smile now gone from his face and replaced by an impassive expression, so Death cupped his cheek and leaned in for a brief kiss, as he always did at times like these, unconcerned about the claws and fangs which had never harmed _him_. The wing wrapped around him tightened a little, the only sign that Andrew appreciated the gentle caress, while Aaron groaned.

"What, you... you're like _Nicky_?"

"It speaks," Andrew said, his voice cold as he regarded his twin.

“You-“ Aaron broke off to gag a little more, probably because of the blood dripping from Andrew’s clawed fingers. “How could you _do_ that to her? You’re Andrew, aren’t you? She’s your mother.”

“She was _nothing_ to me, and she’s nothing now.” Andrew’s voice remained cold even as Death struggled with the urge to hum in delight at the warmth soaking into him from Andrew’s Aspect. “Especially if she couldn’t keep her hands to herself.” A slight emotion dented the impassive mask, a sneer which curled those full lips Death adored. “Why do you care about a woman who beat you?” He reached out a clawed finger to gently tilt Aaron’s bruised face upward to look at him. “Is she responsible for the drugs I sense in you? They’re the same in her. Well, _were_ in her.”

“That’s not, but she-“

Andrew cut off his brother’s denial with more of the bored tone. “‘Make her stop,’ you cried out to me. ‘I can’t go on like this.’ Well, now she’s gone.” At the end, a bit of anger finally crept into his deep voice.

Aaron shuddered and closed his eyes as if unable to look at Andrew any longer. “I didn’t… she’s all I have, dammit.” The words came out roughened by the tears that started to spill down his bruised cheeks. “What am I going to do?”

Andrew made a disgusted sound as he let go of his brother and stepped away. “I’m Vengeance, not Charity.” As he spoke, his other wing came around to engulf Death to take them _between_ , to leave the awful apartment. Though Death was surprised when they appeared not in their own home but Erik’s, standing in the living room while the two men cooked something in the kitchen.

“Andrew? Oh hell, you’re a mess!” Nicky shouted as he grabbed a small towel and threw it at his cousin. “Uhm, please tell me that’s from work and not something personal.”

“A bit of both,” Andrew said as he willed his wings away and wiped at his hands while Death nodded to Erik. “I just met some of the family.”

“Eh?” Nicky stared at him in confusion for a couple of seconds, until realization must have sunk in about what Andrew meant. “Wait, do you mean _our_ family?” He appeared ill for a moment, enough so that Erik was quick to hold on to his arm to offer support.

Andrew bared his fangs at his cousin. “I received an interesting call for help today, from my dear, long-lost twin. Did you know that Tilda Minyard has been abusing her son for years? Apparently drugging him, too.” The mock-smile faded as Andrew looked at the blood-stained towel in his hands. “It ended today _. I_ ended it today.”

“I….” Nicky shook his head and let out a shaky breath as he patted Erik’s hand. “Aaron was always so prickly and defensive about some things, dammit. The few times I saw bruises on him, he told me some stories about kids at school and to mind my own business.” He laughed, the sound bitter enough that Erik hugged him close and pressed a kiss against his left temple. “Then I had my own father to worry about so….“ He gave Andrew a sad look and shook his head as they came into the living room. “Aunt Tilda’s really gone?”

“Yes,” Andrew told him, his expression back to the blank default which always made Death’s chest ache to see it.

“Okay.” Nicky closed his eyes and took a deep breath as if to center himself. “What do you want me to do?” Death was a little surprised by the witch’s offer of help, but he was learning quickly from Abby and seemed to have embraced Andrew’s new nature and the truth about their world.

Andrew gave his cousin a pointed look for several seconds, until Nicky sighed. “Really? You think he’s going to listen to _me_? He barely could stand me, before I left.”

“You willing to leave him to your father?”

Nicky winced then looked at Erik. “Feel up to a road trip, sweetie?”

Without any hesitation Erik smiled at his boyfriend and nodded. “Of course! It’ll be our own little adventure.”

“Or something, especially if we run into my father,” Nicky muttered, but Death noticed the slight smile on the witch’s face and felt that Nicky was complaining for the sake of complaining. “I’ll go get him, but _you_ have to tell Bee about him,” Nicky said to Andrew.

Andrew appeared to mull it over for a moment before he nodded, but Death suspected that his lover had already planned everything out ever since he’d received the call and figured out who had sent it. “Fine. Now get your asses going.”

“Dammit, let us eat something first!” Then Nicky seemed to think about what he’d just said. “Uhm, maybe I’ll do better facing my parents with some alcohol in me.” He looked over at Erik as he grabbed the open bottle of wine sitting on the counter dividing the small kitchen from the living room. “You eat something while you figure out how we get there, I’m gonna have this and prep a few spells and charm bags, just in case.”

“Have the brie at least, baby,” Erik encouraged him as he pulled out his phone.

“And now we’re going,” Andrew stated with evident disgust, right before they left.

That time they did return to their home, apparently so Andrew could shower before going to talk to his mother. “Do you think she’ll take in Aaron?” Death asked as he followed Andrew into their bathroom. “I’ll put out food in a few minutes,” he told the waiting cats along the way.

Busy shedding clothes as he walked, Andrew paused to nod. “She took in Nicky, didn’t she?” By the time they reached the bathroom, he was naked, the sight as always twisting something deep inside of Death, but in a very delightful way. “Besides, I think this will be good for her.”

Death frowned at that as he wondered about his lover’s definition of ‘good’. “Good for her how? He’s an unknown, physically and emotionally abused drug addict, from what I saw.” Not that he would pose any threat to the woman, not with Andrew’s and Nicky’s protective spells and wards on her, among others, but he could make her life unpleasant in other ways.

Andrew shrugged as he started the hot water running then came over to tug on the hem of Death’s hooded sweatshirt. “Because I think she’s a little lonely lately since I moved out and Nicky’s there maybe one night a week. She didn’t expect an empty house so soon and is even talking about getting a dog or something.”

“Aaron,” Death couldn’t quite refer to him Andrew’s brother just yet, “isn’t a dog.”

“No, that’s an insult to dogs,” Andrew remarked as he gave another tug; he didn’t even care for dogs. “Now shut up about him and either get in here or go play with the furballs.”

Death smiled at the invite as he hurried to pull off his sweatshirt.

*******

“We’re dead? Like, _dead_ dead?”

Neil gazed back at the group of teenagers who had thought that sneaking into an abandoned mansion on the outskirts of Zvenigorod to take ‘selfies’ on the roof was a brilliant idea, until they’d fallen through the rotting slate tiles and wood. “Is it that difficult a concept for you to grasp?” He pointed to their bodies yet again, lying in a crumpled heap amidst the various debris down on the ground. “ _Yes_.”

“Wonderful, they’re even bigger idiots than you,” Andrew muttered as he glanced at his phone to check the time. “How much longer is this going to take?” he asked as he leaned against a crumbling wall.

“But, we got some incredible shots!” one of the braindead teenagers complained. “Can’t we at least upload them to our Instagram account?”

“No, because you are _dead,_ ” Neil reminded him yet again, his patience apparently having worn thin judging from the amount of annoyance in his tone just then. “And we are late meeting some friends, so it’s time to move on.”

“ _Finally_ ,” Andrew drawled as he pushed away from the wall while Neil finished his job despite the loud complaints.

Andrew wrapped his left hand around Neil’s right wrist, and a moment later they were in the new back patio area of the Laughing Fox which Wymack had set up thanks to his ‘special’ clientele; the god had decided that it was better to utilize the small area behind the coffee shop for the Named Ones who now hung out at his business all the time and give his human employees a break from having to deal with Neil, Andrew, Wrath and the others.

Allison and Renee had already arrived and were sipping their drinks; Allison was dressed in yet another new outfit, some designer red dress which left her shoulders bare and showed off her long legs, while Renee wore a more modest pale yellow dress, the rainbow-colored ends of her white hair brushing against her shoulders as she turned to look at them as they stepped forward. “How are you? You look well!”

“Neil just helped to rid the world of a few idiots, so yes, we’re fine,” Andrew told her as he sat down in one of the empty chairs around the table.

“It was their time, I merely did my job,” Neil said as he sat next to Andrew. “You make it sound as if I had a hand in their demise.”

Allison grinned around the straw of her iced coffee, her lips the same red as her dress. “Oh, pray tell, just how stupid?” she asked once she set the drink aside while Renee chided her about being morbid.

“Trying to get some extreme selfies to make people follow them,” Andrew explained while Neil sighed.

“Kids these days, what the hell.” Allison shook her head while Renee tried to argue that it had made them happy. It was around then that Nicky and Aaron came out, both dressed in Laughing Fox t-shirts and Nicky carrying a piece of double chocolate cake on a plate.

“I thought I sensed you two arriving.” Nicky smiled while Aaron wore his usual default sullen expression, which always made Andrew want to smack it off or _something_. “What do you want to drink?” he asked as he set the cake down in front of Andrew.

“A large iced mocha and a large Irish Breakfast,” Andrew ordered for both of them while Neil gave Nicky a slight smile in return.

“We can do that. Are Matt and Dan coming, too?”

“They should be.” Neil glanced around, and the two furballs came trotting along as if he’d called out to them. The grey one jumped up into his lap without any hesitation, while the black tapped her paw on Andrew’s left foot so he sighed and scooted his chair back a little so she could jump up on his – at least _her_ fur didn’t show up on his clothes.

/Courage said they’re running late,/ the grey cat explained. /Something about Compassion refusing to accept defeat./

/But Charity is coming for Temperance soon, so they would be here shortly,/ the black cat added as she sniffed at Andrew’s plate of cake, which earned her a gentle tug at her nape; Renee was quick to offer her a piece of scone instead.

“In other words,” Andrew translated for Nicky and a scowling Aaron, “Jean is kicking Matt’s ass at some video game, but Jeremy will be by to pick him up for one of their ‘not-dates’ soon enough so Dan and Matt will be here shortly.”

Allison laughed at that, the sound warm and bright while Renee hummed in amusement. “Jean’s almost as hopeless as a certain _someone_ when it comes to figuring out that they’ve got someone pining after them.”

“Hmm, Charity has been sweet on him for centuries,” Renee agreed. While Aaron rolled his eyes and fidgeted beside a grinning Nicky, she smiled at him. “So how are you doing?” she asked as she reached over to scratch the black cat’s ears. “I understand that you’ll be starting classes next semester?”

Aaron could be a bit of a sullen asshole to a lot of people – _was_ a sullen asshole to a lot of people – but it was difficult to be that way with Renee, considering her new Aspect. “Yeah,” he mumbled to her while ducking his head. He’d put on a few needed pounds after moving in with Betsy and she’d helped to get him clean, and his attitude had improved the slightest bit since he was in a home where he wasn’t being abused and living with someone who actually treated him right. “I’m, ah, looking forward to it.” Then his scowl returned. “Come on,” he told Nicky, “let’s get those drinks.”

“Sheesh, okay, such a slave driver,” Nicky whined as he followed his cousin inside. “We’ll chat some more when we come back,” he promised as he waved to the four of them.

“Hmm, such a difference,” Allison remarked as she sipped her iced coffee and lounged back in her chair while she played with the sunglasses perched on the top of her head. “What’s he going to study?”

“He’s trying for pre-med, apparently,” Andrew told her while he stroked along the purring cat’s back. Wymack had called in a favor or two for Aaron – Wymack and Abby – considering Aaron’s circumstances; it was more of the god’s ‘second chances’ shit, that and giving Aaron a job. Andrew would owe the old man, even if Wymack didn’t see it that way… but Aaron was clean and getting his life together, even if the sullen bastard barely talked to him. Even though Aaron still blamed him for killing Tilda, when Andrew had only done what his brother had wanted and needed.

Andrew had come to realize that while humans needed Named Ones, it didn’t mean that they always respected and appreciated them. All it took was seeing how they reacted to and treated Neil, how they empowered that prick Deception. How his own brother felt about him, when Andrew had saved the ungrateful bastard.

He started at the feel of Neil’s cool fingers along the back of his left hand, the touch light and brief, and looked up to see his lover gazing at him with a concerned expression, blue eyes wide and half-obscured by auburn curls. The sunlight glinted off of the silver key hanging from the black leather collar, and seeing the grey cat peer at him as well from Neil’s lap, her fur blending in with his grey sweater, made Andrew huff in amusement.

Renee must have picked up on something because she hummed a little more before speaking. “Pre-med is a good choice for him, considering his aspect. He’ll make an excellent doctor.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Allison waved her hand through the air, the thin gold bangles on her wrist clinking together with the movement. “So, let’s talk real estate, all right? Since all the excitement is out on this coast right now, we’re thinking of joining in the fun, too.” She set her phone down on the table and started flicking through images of some very high end apartments and row houses. “We can’t-“

“She means _she_ can’t decide, I’m fine with any of them,” Renee murmured as she twirled a strand of hair around her right forefinger and smiled.

“Hush, babe, you’d be _fine_ with a one bedroom studio, and while I adore you, I’m not living in a _hovel_ ,” Allison declared with an aggrieved sniff. “So what do you think?”

Andrew hoped that he received a call at any moment while Neil and the cats politely took to looking at the phone, and Dan showed up with a moping Matt complaining about how Jean cheated at video games.

It wasn’t how Andrew had ever imagined how to spend a late fall day – his lover by his side, family nearby and in the company of immortals. Being _immortal_ himself. Being able to travel the world with a mere thought, yet having a home to return to in the end, a home he shared with someone (and cats). A someone whom he leaned toward and warned that they were staying a half hour, tops, before returning to the peace and quiet of said home, only to receive a quick nod and a luminous smile in return.

It wasn’t how he’d ever imagined it, but it was his reality, and he had the power, the _Aspect_ , to hold to it, to keep it.

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *******  
> Aaron! Yes, the sullen smol one has finally appeared! Hmm, obviously he'll show up more in the next part, but he is here, finally! I must admit, that was one of the scenes plotted out a long time ago. 
> 
> Now who are we missing?????
> 
> The CATS. Someone left a good comment about something I was debating - that the black and grey could have cat names and Neil would use those, not names he or Andrew would give them. Except I've been trying to think of something and so far not come up with anything. So in a true TFC manner... anyone want to make suggestions?
> 
> Oh! And about the cats - in case it's not obvious, but please don't feed cats just any table scraps (yes, yes, it's a fic). 'Death' can sense if they're about to eat anything bad for them, but things like garlic and onions and chocolate are bad for cats. 'This has been your public service announcement'
> 
> I think I have a bad habit of cockblocking poor Andrew....
> 
> At this point I'll get to the second part... hmm, well, I really want to get a chapter or two of Heartlines out. The first half of May is going to be really busy for me (well, May in general is going to be really busy for me, but I know for a fact that I won't be able to write much the first half of it). So I'm not going to promise much of a posting or fic schedule for the next month. But there will be fic at some point.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated!  
> *******

**Author's Note:**

> *******  
> There you go! I figured I'd get this thrown up as a side story since I managed to get a couple of chapters ahead on Armies (finally!) and am so close to wrapping that story up (think two more to write and it's done - should finish it up around ch20). This plotbunny just kept nagging me and it's relatively quick to get out.
> 
> Hopefully the characterizations make sense.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated!
> 
> Happy New Year!  
> *******


End file.
